Almost

between morning and a moon
I almost believed
but sweet summer dreams
are cold and hard
in the winter snow




One of my Christmas presents was this magnetic poetry word calendar thing. I love it! This is the first of many...

Coal

I wrapped the flaps of my coat
around the roundness of his velvet bulk,
shushing into his oil slick shadow coal
-colored fur. He calmed down
in my arms, and I thought about
eclipses and clouds and cold
nights and how much easier
it is to see a black cat when
there is snow on the ground.







Sammy (short for Samhain) is one of our cats, and possibly the most terrified cat in history. I'm his favorite person, and he still acts like I might kick him when I go to pick him up.
It was too cloudy to see the eclipse. Rage.

Numbing

Winter, please hold me.
I want to feel frigid arms
squeezing the warmth from my heart,
I want to paint my insides white
and feel the ice
rush inside
the sudden emptiness of me.
If you could make
me like the snow,
then I would only take
a record of love leaving
but not really feel anything
when it goes.







True Facts.
Sometimes I want to be numb to things.
But then I remember that everything is beautiful (in its own way), and I take it back.

Winter

The canvas blooms into brilliant hues
of red and orange, and skies of blue.
When the air cracks and bites your tongue
like sweet mint candy when you were young-
these are the days
when summer fades
into covered skin
and warmth within
the comfort of one's own home.
Where the snow looks so alone
only until the children dress
and run to relieve their happiness
on the blank slate of frost,
and no matter how much heat is lost
to the hunger of cold
for now, they will never grow old
in the endless expanse of white.
Then the cover of night
will call them home,
bring back warmth to frozen toes
with hot chocolate to revive the nose.
Friends and family by the fire
serenaded by the radio's choir
and somewhere in their minds
they leave their troubles behind.
Peace on earth, good will to men-
every winter, over again.