Shouldered cold
bent deep in grims of collar
turns to maddened hash
of blustered sleet

the walk to wear
is work itself,

A solemn
adamantine morning, pleads
me to ignore the well of failing
human kindness,

by this hand I try
to see

predicaments of alder
whip lacuna from the
mindless face

that beauty
is but symmetry

thus ,crudely overrated

and then again
there's Winter Jasmine,

understated, famined stem
emblazoned with the gemstones
of its flower

now the winter sour, sweetens
cracks the lip a timid noise

pouring forth,
some golden ratio,

sulphur trill of banished voice