Stand in the Light

Stand in the Light

Even though
the cold lies
just beyond this window

on this side
winter wanes
as my face and chest are revived

revived with the warmth from millions of miles away

my stomach, too, warms as I lean in
closer, over
the kitchen counter

paying no mind to the
few greasy forks
and baby bottles
that protrude from the soapy sink water

I glance into the eye of the sun
swear I see the wingtips of a light angel: stretching
blinding me with the brightness of an ineffable beauty

and I look away
close my eyes
and turn back again

lean into illumination
further into the light and absorb
absorb the light from millions of miles away

and something calls to me
to stay, to stand in the light
of this cold January day

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Morning

Morning

Fog rises
Sunlight
falls upon the mountain
snowy white

And the darkness
of night
hides
once again.

Flowers & Vortexes has changed from a bimonthly
to quarterly magazine. It’s just too much work for me.

And So . . . .

the year passes by like tattered blue tarps flapping in the snowy wind

Circumvolve

Again They Die


Yet another year passes
by, and the flowers die
again . . . again . . . again they die!

Cold rain cries cold color from their eyes
And again . . . again . . . again they die!

The land: white. Lifeless.
A few cardinals
feasting
on dead roses.

Striking red poses against a snowy backdrop.
And again . . . again . . . again they die.