The dark season of cold, pallid vastness
Has not broken the tenacity
Of the first snow fall
Heralding the purity of the colorless
And the aroma of burning pine

This opaque mood I am in
Rejoices for the dark season
Yellow and brown ochre highlights
Burnt umber trees of plasticine
Molded by the hands of nature

In my mind, I am alone in this one-way reality
And yet, I delight for the dark season
If I could share this sensation, I would not
For it’s the prelude to a poem
About a cold and distant soul

The heart, mired in the thick black sauce
Beats less for love but rapid with deceit
A craggy instrument that lacks the elegance,
Of the newborn

Awakened each day to seek new meat
To ****** upon and ensnare
Her waking and ending thoughts
Seek to tarnish the golden rule

Mrs. Ess, you are a sight to sea, and see, and si
The hair on the hairless, rise to heaven
While those of us in your presence
Seek a shadow to hide and peek not

In the morning, I gather my thoughts of yesterday
Like the foraging chipmunk, collecting acorns
And stuffing them miserly in my jowls
The past is sustenance for a somnolent soul

As age condemns my faculties
I pull, from my once copious jowl
A jewel of sorts
A garnet set in fool’s gold

My memory is manufactured
Assembled and disassembled
No longer what was or is or will be
But was and is and never has been

I confine my thoughts to winter
Where barren fields and sterile trees
Offer less to recollect
And empty my jaws of these useless reminiscences

When I close my eyes and look into the darkness
I see the reverse image of swirling time
Glimpses of you, but you are not there
Like Schrödinger's cat, you are alive and dead
But all it takes is a potion
And my eyes will remain closed for eternity
The ease of which, has its own damnation
For this life still coddles and excites
And allows me to weep and moan
When I close my eyes and see you in the darkness

Winter has come
Allegro non molto haunts my thoughts
And instantly, I am back to that day
Nebulous clouds of soft misty rain
Gently saturating my resolve
It has been a fortnight of misery
So I take pause as,
Adiago-Presto plays on
And the vanguard of my thoughts
Runs the amorphous path I deem vital
Through the briar of thistle,
I struggle
As Presto dissolves
And another sun, sets

I was raised among the autumn leaves
Subjugated to the seasons    
And the mirth of the wind
Transfixed by the passing moon
That sad old man
Who claims to be wise, yet utters nothing
More guidance I have found from the lonely Lilac
And the vole; and the sympathetic rain
Than I have received from Luna
For I am lonely and fear that soon
I too will be the aggregate
Of time and erosion

If I were Love
Or the rain
Or that prickly feeling
Or the pain
I would be
Above all
And below
A wretch
If I were Love
Or the dirt
Or the dust
Made up of rust
I would be
Love