The skies hold back their
white gold for now.
ground kissed by frost;
everything hard and rigid
under tired feet.
I scrape ice from the
windshield without gloves.
who needs to feel their fingers
it's as if every particle between
my face and the stratosphere
is still, not moving so as not
to attract the attention of the
coldness. I follow their example
and look up into the night sky.
stars so clear. so many. for a while
I wonder if some divine hand
has scraped the ice from
the window to
King's st. 6.
A few humble grains of snow
pavement. concrete. the air
between everything. they all
blend together. then rest.
darkest time of the year.
I love it.
depression. suicide. some
fall victim to this absence
of daylight. their world is
self pity and other heavinesses
vanish when opening ones
eyes to the beauty that resides
within even darkness.
I have clothes.
I have fire.
Threat of rain.
grey skies like the lid of
a kettle from below.
clouds are ice from a
fish eye perspective.
I'm heading for the mountains
bringing little more than
good boots, a solid knife,
my best friend and his
love on four legs.
smiles behind every bark.
ears flapping with his running
free; scouting. herding us
through passes, across creeks.
my heart is a happy dog; stick
in mouth, world of new scents.
bonfire dreams, tapping of rain
on built shelter.
bidding the city adieu.
for days, all I can see will be
It's been raining all night long
As I was singing sad love songs
Look at the sky so dark and gloomy
The air so damp and warm and lazy
Looking out from my window
The streets were wet and sloppy as the rain came slowly and doggedly down
As though it had not even the spirit to pour
Thats exactly how I feel tonight... Sad, emotionless, empty and lonely
I pray for a little sunshine
Will there a little light at the end?
Will warmth once more fill my heart?
Banish sadness from my soul?
Bring new joy after long wet days
A new life, a new start for what has yet to come
Begone dark clouds of sadness
Begone wet cold begone
Welcome to this brand new life
Welcome a new beginning
Although the rain has played its part
The sun will warm the living
The storm has left my aching heart
No more sorrow, no more pain
Dark clouds have been lifted from my mind
By sunshine after rain
It is cold, it is raining.
But no, I don't care.
A matter of hours,
My girl, and I'm there.
We'll sit under blanket,
We'll watch the rains fall.
Sipping at glasses, and
Sharing it all;
The sound of the storm
As it dances around.
The skyfuls of water
That pound at the ground.
Come winter and wind,
They will not see me frown.
An interesting thing
About weather, I've found:
I never get cold, whether
Rainstorm or snow.
Within it with you,
I'm the warmest I know.
Skies, open your eyes.
I don't mind the overcast,
But miss the sunlight of
Automn opens her eyes ever so
Slightly; earth toned irises within
The green mirror of a summer
Dozing off, her awakening reflected
In human breath now visible upon
Chilled evening air, and
Lovers' fingers seeking closer
Shelter within the shared
Pockets of each other.
You ask what the doctor said,
But I have sweeter fish to fry
Than worry; such sensations
As the way your skin is the
Softest I have ever felt against
My own surface of scars and hair,
And how I'm looking forward to
October auburns, bronzes, yellows
And sepias. All in contrast to the
Whites and magnolias of the
Winter that follows their blossom,
And the excuses the coldness
In their wake presents to lean
Closer. Huddle up. Warm hands
Under garments, share blankets
With the least innocent of
Intentions. I love the subzeros.
Frost. Goosebumps receding under
A kiss. And another. And another.
I instinctively throw some
Primal arm around you
When walking past
People less than people
In the eyes of parents,
Others with purer hearts
To protect, cursing the
Blankets of bile and blunt
Bitterness that too much
Drug and drink wrap around
A human, making it warm
The way wetting one's pants
On a cold winter's day just
Larks have stopped their singing
and the geese begin to gather
still heat from the Sun comes down
while stillness is a palpable entity
commands all to be quiet in waiting
waiting for the onslaught of winter
felt in the last chilled nights of summer
the silence of larks and the gathering of geese
The sun has left my south country hills
Now they are lashed by wind and cold rain
The birds that fly south for the winter
They have left my hills, they have gone
The once rich fields have been stripped of their crops
They now lie there wet, muddy and brown
No more bright flowers for butterflies and bees
No more the sound of birds summer songs
I miss the warmth of the sun on my face
I miss the bright summer moons
Its the change of the seasons in my south country hills
All to soon the winter will come
A time to sit down by a warm log fire
Think of the better times to come
A time to think, a time to write
A time to gather ones thoughts
To dream of the sun once more on my south country hills
To dream of spring and the new life it brings
The cold rains of winter will soon fade and pass
And once more we will greet a new year
Once more I will wander the pinewoods
And enjoy my south country hills
I wrote this some time ago
I love this weather so much.
There's such a calm like no other
over the quiet, big house
when the sky outside means
we have to turn on the low lamps
even though it's the middle of
the day and
all you can hear
is distant classical music
upstairs and the soft,
crescendos of rain.
With chai and cinnamon
still on my lips
and heavy breath.
Crying does not mean you are weak;
it means you have remained so strong
for far too long.
It means you have sacrificed your life
to ensure others live their's,
and it means you have put yourself forward
to protect their Earth rather than conserve your world.
It means you have kept your promised silence
that hush a friend dared to ask,
and it means you welcomed the weight
when your shoulders were soaked with drenching salt.
It means you have been sympathetic,
firmly standing your ground to defend friends,
and it means you forced yourself into exile
when your effect seemed more demonic than caring.
It means you threw your entertainment aside
to keep a little brother company as he chases fireflies,
and it means you disregarded candle wishes
as an older sister licked frosting numbering a younger year.
It means you chose to be the person everyone wanted to have
but no one wanted to be.
The night is still
Holding it's breath
In anticipation of the charcoal clouds
That are rolling in
Like a rising tide,
And with whips and cracks
The skies break their banks
And rain pours forth
From the heavens
And the clouds collide
Like gunshots in the air,
Bones breaking against wind,
Light scatters across the atmosphere
A haze of purple and blue
Fleeting, but brilliant
Passionate, but deadly
A tremor that shakes the walls
Of brick and stone houses
A wound ripped in the sky
Electrical blood seeping through
the cracks and crevices.
The storm is upon you.