Predawn Footprints

overhead a slow accumulation
of white drifts on frozen sky
dancing in the air formlessly
fated to sink beneath
black heels, rubber spiked

predawn streetlamps
far less electric
than their daytime cousins
hold close promises of pale slumber

with each breath of frigid air
the snowplowed banks encourage
my breaking of new earth

each heretical footprint
leaving behind ice-blue

shadows on the carpet Continue reading

What Is Winter?

What is Winter?​

All it takes is one frozen drop.​

One kaleidoscopic flake of winter

to fall gracefully from the heavens.​

All it takes is one line of ice.

One explorer of a watery frontier

to freeze a trail into the deep.

All it takes is one green needle.​

One sliver of eternal life

to steadfastly refuse to fall.

All it takes is one bright candle.

One luminous guardian of light

to hold its vigil in the dark.​

This is all it takes…

Frozen World

Frozen beneath the ground lies the clock.

She ticks on quietly, keeping pace with the wind.

Her heart is a finely tunes engines made long ago.

On each hour she sings to the icy sky.

Her melody sounds against the ice,

trapped within a sleeping world.

On will she tick, till her gears rust,

on will she hum till her bells crack,

on will she dream till she floats away.

For the pond has need of a lullaby.

Old Man Winter

When gazing at a snowflake,

falling in the field,

listen softly to the wind.

“Love is all around.” He sings.

His voice is the rustle of branches.

His drum, the silent falling of snow.

Look onward gently.

Across the frozen ground he dances.

His form, the swaying of trees.

His steps, the moonlight on their branches.