White plains; wide planes
Of wind and cold Winter throwing Icy grit on skin. Yawning days of Autumn gone by And the sun of Distant spring far
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The forest behind my neighbor’s garage
Is ten feet wide and thirty feet long But is full of different types of life In summer the leaves grew full and thick Filling the space with shades of green The ground is dark and mysterious But in winter the spires of lean saplings Poke out of bright snow in numbers Like pins in a white cushion for grandma The cardinals glide through The squirrels hide nuts The finches flutter All in plain view of my kitchen window The forest behind my neighbor’s garage. Gold on gold the cold clouds fold
Into amber wisps of day’s remains This isn’t an end But another beginning A night A day A future that holds Breaking slivers of silver and folds of gold Worth a ton of sun That warms my face After a long cold winter I wonder what winter would be
With no wind or cold or snow With no shovels or scrapers Or sand or salt or shuffling on ice No layers on layers of bundling up Or socks of wool in heavy boots. I guess we’d have more closet space And more flip-flops and shorts. But we also wouldn’t appreciate That first sunny and melting day In Spring when we were so weary Of short cold days and colder nights. Or the first thunderstorm and rain of spring The smell of the Winter washing. I know what it’d be with no Winter And I know that I don’t want it. Winter through my window
Crisp clean cold Blue white gray Sleeping tree is frosted Winter through my window Squirrel runs Birds flutter For food thrown out for them Winter through my window January one Year begun Inside under blanket Winter through my window Windless day Sun shining Bright onto white smooth snow Feelings of aging aches beginning
Creeping in Creeping in In morning high snapping Of joints and bones Accompanied by deeper moans and groans My reflection stares back at me now Whiskered face Whiskered face The puffy eyes not younger The hair I had retreating I surrendered the troops to a clipper working I wonder if Dad felt this way too Numb to time Numb to time Boys running circles Around his life Did he have time to enjoy the sunsets? My flip flops thwap thwapped
The cool air felt good On my knees and shins Below the bottom of my shorts It had been a long day Of dress shoes and pants In the convention hall On my feet all day I relished the change of clothes And the warm January California air That evening as we went to eat Under a rising full moon But as we observed the locals around us We wondered if maybe I had under dressed Or if they had over reacted to the chill That night that felt good to me relatively Patagonia puff coats, Uggs, Scarves and mittens were the norm And dogs wearing coats. I laughed on the inside. I’ve got better things to do
Than not drink orange soda My winter is long enough Without that summer in a bottle It’s the taste of my youth That magic orange soda Fanta, Crush, or Sunkist They all take me there Carbonated sweet sun This icy orange soda Every sip is a portal in time Take me back, take me back I hear you Wind
You have worn your welcome Please move along Leave me with silence And take Cold with you too And tell Spring to come in. I’m ready to turn this corner And start complaining again About heat, humidity and bugs. Cool grass blades
And blue glass fades To golden reflections Of sunset on my window Sprinklers shush shushing And mourning doves cooing The light fades away And lightning bugs play Summer nights I could use you now As I sit here in February Cold and tired. |