Bloodless, one-dog
night
has turned the blankets
white and thick and barking sad?
Has aching hills and clogged up roots?
Has trees with arms and vein spent hearts and empty stares?
Is life arrested, is she now, in
window dressings for the knotted and the never?
Flip the light, fill the rink half
full, dance a while in the wonder to the
Snowy little soft falls
a million many love calls
on the edge of lashes
on the cling to being
on the roasted chestnut tales
of strange people and loving.
Til the green is mint and
chocolate spring
Til the wild is ready to
“repetite”
Til the merry wheels of morning and again.
Good to see this post and read the value of its wordings. Thank you very much.
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