Today
2009 March 6
In a quick-March moment
we’re back in long black underwear,
white cold, crossing blade-slick streets.
Steam rising
between the ears
of every suited sidewalk vagrant.
Attaché eyes cast in concrete,
gazes fastened to ropes,
tied to passing feet.
I could stay roped down,
encrusted under the brown ice-pack.
I could continue to wake up
in a four-seasoned winter
of cold sweats.
But a purple horizon
at the West edge of town,
left-over light,
catapulted over
by a glistening sunrise,
begs a moment of Royal deference.
And I choose to give it.
3 Responses
leave one →
Despite the bleak renaissance of winter,
spring can’t be far away.
The flow of creative juices
flowing through you
can only mean,
that the light
is about
to be
extended
once
again!
Len, Nice flow yourself…
perhaps, but where you have creative juices what flows thru me is mainly sap.