Poetry

The earth has broken open,
The cold
Splintered by sun
And southern wind,
The snow wet and quiet.
I remember the scent
Of freshly turned earth,
The gentle fingers of
Soft spring rain.
We were young
Together,
Throwing our jackets
Into snowbanks,
Coaxing the rivulets
Of melted snow,
Downhill,
Faces splattered
With cold mud.
To be in a place
And time again
Where leisure
Asks for
Meandering
Makes me smile.

Sometimes the
Cold seems relentless,
The ice deepening
As we sleep.
The subtleties
Of interpretation
Molding our lives
Like waves of desert sand.
The justification of
Action revealing
Feelings and hidden
Wounds that
Impact all that
Comes next.
I am afraid.

It is a subtle
Reining in,
Wispy threads
Looped through
And around
Conversation.
It moves in
The smallest of
Glacial increments,
The growth rings of a tree
Planted in youth,
Harvested in old age.
Like scratched dates
On old, yellowed photos,
We acknowledge its
Power,
Then stash it away
To be seen
Only at another
Passing.

The prairie waves
Are frozen in time,
Void of footprints,
Remaining unread.
Whistling winds
Have exhausted their
Breath,
The slow packing
Of crystals
Stopping the clock.
Only the sun
Ventures into
Open fields on
Days like this.
We skirt the edges,
Strangers.

Sometimes I lose you.
You slide behind the
Shadows in your eyes
To live in the
World as it was.
I am not sure
How to search,
Pressing and
Retreating
Yield equally
Vacant results.
So I wait,
Stress bunching
Up like sleeves in a
Winter jacket,
Planning for your return
To me.

The quiet
Draws me
Inside out,
Loosening the weave
Of daily expectations.
The crisp dark
Of earliest morning
Reflects moonlight
On the crusted snow,
A mirror of the sky
Bathed in silence.
Our visit is brief,
The frigid air
Convincing us
To go back inside,
Curl for a few more
Hours in the warm
Cocoon of blankets,
To wait for the
Sunrise.

Even my breath
Is brittle,
Hanging in the air
Briefly,
Then shattering
Into crystals
To disappear.
Wind drifted
Snow obscures
Yesterday,
A single set
Of tracks wanders
Through reeds
Rustling with
The cold.
I pull my hood
Over my frosted
Hat,
As the sun
Blushes the horizon.