
the marsh is frozen,
but then it thaws–
after several bitter cold days,
is solid once again–
and i can’t help but think how this pattern
is reflective of our little lives

the marsh is frozen,
but then it thaws–
after several bitter cold days,
is solid once again–
and i can’t help but think how this pattern
is reflective of our little lives
as winter continues to unfurl in all of its cold, crystal beauty, we long for fields of wildflowers
on an afternoon walk in the rain,
her thoughts fell into pools of cold water
and melting ice
“I bury my face in the pillow that smells of must and damp. Its cotton slip is as cold as marble. It is only here, alone and in the dark, that I can allow those thoughts some rein. Thoughts that come from nowhere, from dreams, taking me delirious hostage. I long for sleep again, because only in sleep can I slip the bonds of what is possible and right. But as I have found so often in life, what you truly long for eludes you.”
from the book, The Tenderness of Wolves, by Stef Penney
he regretted everything,
and my heart still breaks–
because now,
he regrets nothing
memory is fluid
awake
sometimes winter rays on the water reflect
all of what we cannot say
let your warmth
drift slowly across my
doorstep and straight into
my brittle heart
the dust motes in the afternoon light
a highlighted sentence in a tattered book
the lost button in a warm coat pocket
a reflection cast from cut crystal
the dangling string on a colorful kite