Monday, March 26, 2018

Winter Poem

weeks after you have resolved

to do that thing...it fades

like a bird egg at Snowqualmie Pass...

was it go again to shop for salt and gravel?

was it sign up for pickle ball  in April?

was it cancel your nightly ration of duck sauce lo mein?

learn to live inside a makeshift 4-star hotel lobby of the mind

one with large-back swivel chairs and flowing fountain fish tanks

one with long red runner carpet and coffee bar refills

art murals and mirrors - and luggage carts to match

a pool with swan boats both inside and out...

a line outside bookstores in hot July

distracted by thoughts of mud in gardens

you fall on ice

more than once, asking why

over-scheduled for hibernation

hands cold inside of gloves

you play a word game over and over

until propelled outside again

reaching for hand and coat

observe how the cars collide slower than normal

one day is actually warm and the sun

plays upon the cardboard horizon

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