Sometimes I hear Winter
Through the voice of a cello
Music written by Bach
In andante and mello

Sometimes I see Winter
Through bare trees in the silence
Birds perched on white silos
Awaiting Spring violets

Find a way
to justify
a day of doing nothing

You don't owe the world a thing
But, maybe,
it owes you something

Sometimes I do not remember
auditioning for this part
The lines are unfamiliar to me
and have been from the start
I manage to get through
most of the scenes
but at the the end of day
I know I have acted poorly
in role I’d rather not play

How difficult the lives
of those who spend
much of adulthood
searching for the parts of themselves
lost in an embattled childhood
and once found
assembling those jig-sawed pieces
into what was thought never to be whole

Better anger than non-belief
One that sees the Lord
as a well-carved but lifeless piece of wood
does not seek to strike it

It happens every Thanksgiving day
Because I do not think ahead
I do not think about the pie
Until I 've eaten too much bread
I do not think about the bread
'til I've eaten too much dressing
And I'm usually on my second plate
Before I've heard the blessing

Another cold Fall morning
when the sun dried leaves on the ground
are as crisp and golden
as the corn flakes
I poured into my breakfast bowl
When trees are growing bare
and questioning the wisdom of Nature's timing
When squirrels dash about
cursing their procrastination
It's when the only thing
I can think of what's wrong
with this time of year
is that it ends


and Winter begins