1.31.2014

New Year

it is addressed thusly:
An ode.
it reads:
Old man winter on the faces of the rocks
His hoary beard a carven ice tear
The Romans were right about the shape of the year
Winter is the time when time gasps and stops
Some are painted with words I do not know
When time and Spring returns I go
Until then, I breathe between the drops.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Messages left under the doormat will be promptly decoded and a response may be issued.