There comes a cold December when the snow covers the ground,
It softens all the edges and it mutes all of the sound,
I shiver in my jacket and I think of sunset skies,
When the birds were singing sweetly and color of your eyes,

There’s a fire that’s burning somewhere and it warms the winter’s night,
While the wind blows past the window,
clouds obscure the pale moonlight,

And there’s blankets full of comfort lying softly in a pile,
Somewhere, somehow, I will get there to remain a little while,
While the snow gets ever deeper and the cold seems here to stay,
Though it be a cold December we can chase the cold away.

JHenry

Every bend of a mountain stream
Has an inlet somewhere,
A little warm corner where the
Currents churn slow
And soft
Across the water worn rocks.

And notice how the river's things
Quick darting fish and splintered
Sticks all come to rest
For a moment in the rhythm of this Gently swirling space
That gives freely of her embrace
Before everything goes drifting on and
On to where it is supposed to go
Waterways to the raging sea
And beyond.

And I am an inlet.

I do not know how to turn cold and
Resist each time
Love comes close.
No, I reach out to gather and to hold.

But yet, it is always only passing
Through and like the gentle bend of a Mountain river, I must let go.

So it is
Every time
I find myself alone.

Sitting by the banks of a
Rushing river
Listening to the whisper of the water That sounds like

Ghosts.

what i know about my sadness is that it is clumsy.
i still keep finding the things
it left behind.
on places where it shouldn't belong.
and like a fool, i still claim them.

in the depth of human tragedy
there is also this dillema
of tyranny
that either the truth or the lie
is going to crash the tyrant

they play reality games
and
the delusion will end in catastrophe
but
how much of the world is going to take with it?

spring is in a rush this year,
to affirm the rationality
of life