it’s that curious time of year
airs alternating
freezing cold winds
and gentle warming breezes

the snows and ices are melting
shrinking before a strengthening sun
retreating back
to expose the covered earths and rocks and plants
decayed ice shattering down the cliffs
bonds melted from their vertical rocky grasp
crashing into ditch and road
beware the plunging rocks!
bouncing on the pavement
splitting into additional stones
jagged
cutting the edge of tires
denting up the bodywork
smashing oil pans and mufflers

and i climbed up
that jagged precipice
grasping saplings and raspy edges of granite
buried within the crystallized hillside
clambered onto the highway
cars whisking left and right
spraying me with their salty splashes

i walked into town
and i grew two inches
as the mud mounted
layer by layer
step over step
thick beneath my winter boots
scraped periodically
against the concrete curb

muttering whispers
spirit on the wintry winds

ragged rantings
of the ancient dead

shivering
the ravens huddling within their trees

purring
the cats in their warm soft spaces

coughing
the old man in his ragged coat

silent
the crocus bulbs beneath the icy snows

the snow fell down
and the snow fell down
upon the roads and sidewalks

(bless the snow plows
for they are heroes)

an old lady
laden with bags of groceries
struggled up the icy sidewalk
sloped against the side of a mountain

she slipped
she fell
she collected her scattered groceries
she rubbed her elbow

and i felt pity
i felt sadness
i felt duty to my community
to shovel the ice and snow
clear from the sidewalk concrete

shovelling the sidewalk
is service to others
work performed for no monetary reward
indeed
spending money on snow shovels and ice melt salts
net capital outlay for zero income

it is my pleasure
to serve my community
in this very small way
every old woman who does not fall down
is another reward
for citizen snow

the lunar eclipse
is nearing totality
merely a sliver of the moon remains
shrouded in the nighttime mists
dimly red
hiding in the shadows
a momentary flash
blinks on the top left side
meteoroid kisses the dusty regolith
icy patterns snake upon the windows
fed by frigid humid airs
a beggar snores in a vacant doorway
sleeping on the concrete
cap on the ground in front of him
a couple walks by
hand in hand
smiles upon their faces
woman hums a contented tune

silence roars
echoing throughout the canyon
winter winds
chill upon the airs
of those glittering winter wastelands
all sparkling in the setting sun
twinkling spun
footsteps orange within
blue behind
crusted hard in surface snows
crunch crunch crunch crunch
walking to the lake
mountains loom darkly
upon the watery depths
waves ripple gently
bathing frozen sandy shore

if words have five marks..

they are not ill-spoken
but well-spoken
laudable and praised by the wise

what five?

they are spoken at the right time
they are true
they are spoken with gentleness
they are to the point
they are spoken with love

and sol
advanced in age
still put out a good fire
and courted his hidden mistress
brown on black
barely visible against the velvet aethers

sol calmed down as she approached
flares dampened
dirty sunspots stashed away
(for some other day)
all awash with gentler phires

although those canopy rifts
streaming forth their radiant plasmas
gave him dead away

oort and kuiper icelettes danced their wave
strengthened by her gravity pulse

meanwhile

those inhabitants of the earth
continued to spiral chase
a yellow star
they drove their cars
near and far
and tried to save money to die
(less estate taxes of course)

serpent writhes within the skies
electric comets
orbits doth arise

fret ye not
lover of cats
(or dogs, if you’re a dog person)
lover of plants
lover of minerals and rocks and airs..

fret ye not
those laid hidden
deep within the earths

fret ye not
those space-borne within the starships..

this has happened before
this will happen again

a question to the recently displaced soul fragment:
why would you return to a planet named earth?
is that truly
your only option?

oh soul
now that thou art dead
pass ye not
left nor right
but sail on true
clear to that blinding bright

is this a great error..
..to run to the first light that is seen?

the old man withered
rattling within his meat sack
dragging foot in front of foot
lurching his body forward

(what consciousness energizes thusly)

bottle of cider in his hand
staggering along
the railway tracks
paper bag
crinkled from the top

and he beheld the sky
clouds wreathing mountains high
guarding the snow above
from the greenery of the valley below

ripples in the lake
mountains racing towards each other
ending in a V
airs betwixt
reflected in the waters as -V
revealing the futures past
twisting with the future fates

and all of it was meaningless
for it had come and passed before
as surely as it would happen again

fifth dimensional rider gods
were absent on that day
no amount of tinder dry
would strike a fire within the damp

he met a wildman on the way home
yelled an extra-dimensional salute of his name
and the wildman was terrified
jumped back
exclaimed
“do not speak to me this way!”

and onward home he went