"...IN FORGETFUL SNOW..."

flake by flake
Heaven falls
until its whiteness covers all

angels guard
their dead
all is quiet all is light

even marble flesh
feels
the cold

the dead
have forgotten
Christmas

a Christmas
the angels
have never known

a forgotten bicycle
half there-half not
looking like an art installation

until it too
succumbs
to the snow's will

the silence slowly
erasing
the world

a raven
perches
upon an angel's wing

she pays it no mind
gazing with sightless eyes
as land and sky become one

even
the horizon
is being filled in

the raven's
harsh voice
upsetting the silence

*

“Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow”

― T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land

I write
but never claim
to be right
nor to seek fame

only as a keen observer
of the myriad manifestations of life
a humble truth- seeker  and curious wanderer
amid  its doubts and uncertainties that run rife

The darkness and stillness of the
night are comforting
They can be hypnotic
Drawing one towards sleep
As the city noises stop

The feeling of the coolness
of the air as the temperature drops
Feels wonderful
After the heat of the day

The sky turns black velvet with a
hint of starlight or perhaps
a sliver of moon

The warmth  of the bed draws you in
Covered with sheets and
blankets wrapped for the night

As you lie there listening to the quiet your body craves sleep as your eyes begin to close

Dreamland awaits

It is gently snowing. Large size white flakes very slowly. Looking like queen Anne’s lace. As you stand in the forest -- there are no sounds except a few birds in the trees. It is so quiet you can almost hear the snow fall. You are aware of your breathing which slows. You close your eyes to listen to the quiet and feel the stillness. You are one with nature.

Snowflakes gently touch your face but you are not cold. There is total peace.When you open your eyes, you see a doe looking at you. Still, quiet and peaceful. You don’t want to ever leave this moment.

It was a crisp winters day
In the middle of the season
The sun was bright blue with a dotting of a few white clouds

There was a cold wind whipping through the trees
It was bitter to the skin
Branches were bending to it as if they were dancing
Wind chimes could be heard in the distance

The snow was blowing around shifting location creating white dunes like cotton candy

The fireplace was burning with a fresh log creating a hypnotic warmth in the room
The wood gave off a pleasant scent as it burned
It was a good day to be inside

Every night
Fairies arrive
They come from far away
They are tiny creatures
Almost invisible
They have delicate wings
Beautiful really
Like a hummingbird
They have always existed
Since the beginning
They come to the believers
All over the world
To grant their wishes and dreams
While they sleep
They sprinkle magic dust over them
Made of silver and gold
To bring sweet dreams and protection
As night ends they leave
Returning home
Awaiting the next night
To come once again
Fairy dust magic

My mind is a
scrapbook of
tattered
memories and
ghosts that waltz to
sullen Cohen
songs in my heart.

Sometimes
it hurts
like a
rotten tooth.
I have a foul and
electric
taste in my mouth.
A metallic bitterness.
There’s a febrile and
pale stranger in the
mirror that cowers
back at me.
Tears, like candle wax.

I used to
try and drink the
pain away.
Chase worldly
pursuits, like a
dog at the track
after that mechanical
rabbit.

As I get older,
I try to practice
wisdom.
I got off that
dirt road to
damnation Island.
We are in this
carnival of ****
together.
I seek a higher love
and try to ease another's
aching,
a pursuit worthwhile.