Saturday, February 26, 2011

Days Inside

The soot of living wakes me;
Dry throat, sinuses packed snug.

The snow came punctual
And as matter-of-fact as
The home team's prospects this season,
Or a life expired, though the prayers ought to have sufficed.

With this wind clamoring to get in,
A winter storm advisory brings the cold I fight
Or become resigned to endure.

The door of summer's memory fades
Until the noon sweat staining the carefully kept suit
Becomes a foreign myth, strange and unfamiliar.

The nuts, so carefully stored up, are lost under white oblivion
And the tree from where they were harvested recedes into forest.



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