Peel the door - Five go-old riiiings!
Though my dazzled, growing mind
struggled with partridges, pears and all
I loved that daily
school held teachers term-tired enough
to do singing practice for hours,
consigning maths
to the grey stretch of January

This poem was written on a cold winter morning in the North.

winter sun
written february 5th, 1995

laying stretched in bed
after sleeping all night
all night in my head
with the walls up

i open my eyes
to the winter sun
winter sun burning bright
bright and white and pure

winter sun is such a contrast
sparkling off the cold snow
cutting through the crisp air
brightness the only thing left of its heat

i feel the walls go back down in my head
i shut my eyes to the blinding brightness
and let the sun make its way unaided

into my self
can it make its way around the walls?
find its way through the maze?
discover all the secret places?

winter sun doesn't have vision or reason
it isn't confused by the barriers i put up
by the false walls that i have built
or the inaccurate signage

for a few minutes
on this cold winter morning
in spite of my defenses
the winter sun illuminates all of me

IN THE DEEP MIDWINTER

the fox pauses

a paw
left in mid air

resting upon
a clump of darkness

the fox listens intently
the countryside listens to the fox's

listening

a stillness falls
upon all
a snail stops mid-wall

nothing moves
the fox's eye glistens
the world holds its breath

the fox trots
as if in a dream
across countryside that's never been

my face reflected
in the diorama
the museum closing for the night

We can't always control the circumstances we are in but we can control how we choose to respond to them.