Moist, cotton-candy tufts of snow cling to pink-peach blossoms
As old pollen decays under the skeletons of autumn leaves.
New pollen bursts free from tight-fisted, baby-buds.
Dawn is simultaneously gray and gilded.
Day is indistinguishable from twilight except for the activity of insects;
The sky is big-bellied, fluffy as a muted calico cat.
Temperatures flit like a mourning dove;
Cold cuts deep, leaving shank marks on one’s bones.
Rain rinses the soul, keens for a time before the inception of time
When dark and light intermingled—
When fire blossomed out of ice.
After The Beginning came order … delineation…
Yet the allure of chaos calls us back, muddling our goose steps
As we hunger once again for primordial embrace.
Published in Poems