The curl of the wind around my house in winter
an evil grip on my breath
a visitor unwelcome
an emotional rip
The sweat of the sky
dripping all over my roof
like gym clothes too big and too worn
The smell of earth tainted by waiting
and tears of too long
and to where I belong
the river sings muddled
old songs of melted mountains
of valleys caressed
of fish now extinct and of old plants beloved
she drones out a tune
in a rolling refrain
and the creatures are caught in the moon
Twice in the morning the dawn
takes a swim
only to greet the sharp winters grin
as she sharpens her icicle swords in the air
the maiden of spring is reminded to share
Twice in the evening
the dreams come to dance
in my head like a summer's unending romance
where the winter is slain
and my gardens remain
where my clothes are peeled visciously
off
In my free skin I run
with my gathering mind
in my satchel I place fragrant needles of pine
in my free skin I moan
to the voluptuous mud
to the unfrozen frogs
and my thawed winter blood
down the river she warbles
and dribbles and spoons
and undulates stories
of never told moons
like an asana ancient and worth repetition
yet current with changes and new definitions
as I watch her in dreamland
lucid I trust
my mortal existance gets left in the dust
for a night of free living
in waterlogged lust
The clasp of the cold
is beginning to go
as the sap rises up
making new out of old
bringing
up
warm
sugar
and
feeding me
again
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