I care not
for the knots
the fingers
crave to touch

Like splinters
beneath the nails
are the grains of
my contemplation

Snowflakes
that flutter down
melt so fast
in the fires
of destination

The cradle is
the ladle of life
dishing out
the grueling days

We stack up
board feet
by the yards
to build a house of
cards

And when
the snow has melt
the springboard floods
wash it all away