You said it’s still winter, ice sheets around Greenland, while flying, up above it all, hermetically sealed, observing, removed, the ice withdrawing, the ocean stretching to fill a void, although from altitude it wouldn’t seem to be moving at all, there are subtle things you miss from austere heights, giving up detail for the largest panorama, further out, still, with no more borders, strange landforms falling under the very edge of the day, abstract clouds […]
My heart is over by the budbreak far far over in true sun and night no passivity of rain it falls unequivocally as the light comes down in bars full chords of golden rays and the shadows palpable. My heart is just one cautious note a finch at the field’s edge singing it is so very late and yet still early a frost would be the end irrevocably but the leaves unfurl like tiny sails […]
Sun today like honey like salve and that breeze coming off the lake– crisp bridges linear and visible in fullest color not simply more light this clarity– winter has its own perspective– a twist of mirrors and new glass shifts into focus a few repurposed shards illusions of infinity and then there is this sky
Waiting on the weather report. Come dawn we’ll know better but for now it’s unseasonably warm. Which makes these words unreasonably harsh. Why burden your burden? You sink stones in mud to step on, a way across, why be mean to your means, unless you seek an end?
OPTIONAL POETRY 