Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Novemberance

Foreshortened day,
unwelcome touch,
and unkind light.

I read the warnings,
count out their syllables. 

Then snow webs 
untidy, un-mappable, 
planting everywhere.

Racing, erasing my flesh, 
being, becoming my body.

_

what we are built for

in the days when the kids were smaller and my parents younger and they lived here  six months of the year                                   ...