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Posts Tagged ‘snow’

Shovel in Hand

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on February 1, 2014| 1 Comment »

By the time I am done
shoveling snow, already
two more inches
have covered the drive
where I first began to shovel.
This is how it always is.
Unfinished. Like the dishes
that find their way to the sink
just after the last dish is done.
Or the dust that already
starts to collect on the piano
right after the duster is gone.
Or the words I wish I would
have said but could not find
when you were here, how they
rush in the moment
you leave. There is always
more to be said, to be done,
to be heard, to be lost.
Just last week that pain
that I have been living with,
it left, just for a little bit,
and then, just as I began
to believe it was gone
it was back full bore.
Oh life, thank you for
all the returns. For the cat bowl
that always needs to be filled,
for the hunger that never quite
goes away, for the love
that changes and changes again,
for the snow that continues
to fall and for whatever mystery it is
beneath inside around above
it all that never ever changes.

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Eleven Almost Perceptions

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on January 28, 2014| 2 Comments »


To understand is to perceive patterns.
— Isaiah Berlin

white car in the ditch
black car in the ditch, another
white car in the ditch

*

singularity
of each snowflake, not once
did I notice

*

driving in a snow
storm, watching myself
drive in a snow storm

*

a clear path
in the fast lane—the past passes
the future

*

how easily it erases
my car, the
falling snow

*

holding the steering wheel
the way I once held
your shoulders

*

between today and
tomorrow, one long
lane, two turns

*

driving toward Denver
I tell old thoughts to get out,
find another ride

*

Attention, said Ikkyu.
When asked to say more, he said
Attention, attention.

*

what I want, where
I am, the practice of letting them
collide

*

I forgot the tune
the snow doesn’t care
I sing anyway

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Sitting Beside Vivian and the San Miguel

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on January 11, 2014| 1 Comment »

IMG_0840

There is dust
all over the world,
sings the little girl.

She is brushing snow
away from the ice
at the edge

of the mostly frozen river.
Her song goes on:
And somewhere else

there is someone else
who is dusting.
And she sings and sings

and sweeps away
the white dusting
until beneath her

purple gloves
the frozen world
shines.

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Three Through the Glass

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on December 14, 2013| 1 Comment »

field of snow
dry grass pokes through, not one single
fallen angel

*

into the woods
the rabbit tracks only go
one way

*

staring at snow,
sitting beside the vase
of white lilies

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In the Middle of the Storm

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on November 5, 2013| 3 Comments »

Walking through the field
the snow fills in the trail ahead.
It’s a vanishing path,
it’s vertigo,
and now, love, imagine,
without a set route
there is nowhere
we can’t go.

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Four Warmings

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on October 31, 2013| 1 Comment »

for no reason
for every reason
falling deeper in love

*

a whole day of snow
a whole day for our tongues
to get lucky

*

feeling blue skied
though the weatherman says
big, big storm

*

this list of shoulds
these lips
which would you rather kiss

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tanka

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , on February 9, 2013| 6 Comments »

softly snowing
while all the stars are out
let’s love like that—
everyone will say it’s not possible
but we know

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Contrary

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on December 31, 2012| 6 Comments »

So easily the world
makes itself new.
Like today, how all
the footprints and tracks
of yesterday are buried.
The cars are buried. The drive.
The pinecones. The birdseed.
Of course they’re not gone.
We all know the snow melts
and the world will be
the same as it was, only
it won’t be. We know
that, too. I have dreamed,
perhaps, of the snow that
could cover me, make
me new, erase all the
scars and pains. But I don’t want
to start over again. I bow
to all those thoughts, all
those pains, all those scars,
that brought me here
to this snowy windowsill
on this last day of the year
when the world looks new
and I am so grateful to be
this woman growing old.

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Almost

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on December 10, 2012| 3 Comments »

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes
and no. No advice that sticks.
The snow comes down

like an afterthought. A flake
on the street. A flake on the nose.
Sometimes I live this way. Perhapsishly

and maybeing. Sixty-five shades
of gray. No rule I can believe in
enough to write it down. Life

itself the exception. Every day
the proof, and then this snow.
I used to think I knew what

gravity was. And love. True,
the snow comes down. But
the heart? How to explain

this rising, this infinite
falling apart, the tangled
astonishing mess. This snow

falling from nowhere. No. No. No.
No. No. No. I say. And yes.

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spring storm haiku

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on April 4, 2012| 6 Comments »

wet snowflakes, thousands—
oh that a lover could have
so many tongues

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