
Tag Archives: winter
Train to Leeuwarden

Morning spectacle

I’ll have never left

Topeka
And so I left those troubles
like a gray bitter snowstorm,
spinning but then
digging and gaining traction,
passing slowly through the drifts and pelting
(headlights full of the past),
driving knowing if I drove far enough
there’d be an end to it,
the white line again,
daylight
and a first inkling of why
Walk in the woods

On falling asleep to Williams’ Lark Ascending
There’s a measure of peace in all things,
a first warm sky of the season
in every bleating cold rainy dark
and so, though I see
neither through nor branch
in the blue from my couch,
my body’s settled to become
a meadow for the birds
How it isn’t now, and is
Clouds on the ground
Saltless
Sealess
Carrying nothing I might need
Another glove dropped
Another lost single.
Sometimes
someone
will pick one up
and stick it on a branch.
And then it waves
wanly.
