
That which seems
fixed, moves.
My life, like a boat.
Sometimes with
a roar, like thunder.
Sometimes, almost silent.
Pressed against
the clearing sky.



Out of hibernation
”You look so lonely”
You said.
As the morning
moved slowly.
”Not lonely, just waiting
for the thaw, and the spring
guests to arrive” I replied.
So we sat,
while jade hue
embraced us both
And fingers fell,
treading the last
of the winter snow.






