Poetry

Snow

And I can see those crystal smiles

flaking through the sky, passing here, staying there,

skipping over to those outstretched fingers

only to blush and shy away.

Replacing it, the older brother,

hammering down to flood the ground,

standing rigid and smooth

even against steady feet.

Poetry

Water Nymph

Sometimes I think I’m water.

Well, technically a substantial portion of me is,

but I’m talking about,

you know,

free flowing water.

The kind that freezes when it’s cold,

or pools in shallow dips when it rains,

hangs around in the air

to fluff up

that girl’s neatly straightened hair.

Except it isn’t my form that changes.

It’s my mood,

my entire attitude

to life.

I’m not complaining, just

observing really.

Once I thought it’d be good to be fire.

Then the wind caught my candle

and blew it out.

Poetry

Fairy dance

Do you remember the dancing fairies

from Fantasia? 

The ice skating ones, who carve all those lacy designs

on the pond with their toes?

Yes, those ones. Think we could ever

do something like that? Map out our life

on frozen water?

Maybe not on frozen water.

Why not?

Because it’s so still, but life never is.

Oh, I hadn’t thought about that.

Well, now you have.

 

Poetry

Time bubble

I’m falling out of love with the apples

suspended in the air, frozen

on their descent to the ground.

The songbirds too, paused

in mid-flight away from the rain clouds.

I can stand in front of a whole swarm of bees,

rear ends rapier-pointed at my face,

knowing they will never pierce me.

What’s there to like

about a world that does not breathe?