Stones
an old foundation
reclaimed by a forest of
thickly tangled vines
–
blowing snow-
winds sing in
the chimney
an old foundation
reclaimed by a forest of
thickly tangled vines
–
blowing snow-
winds sing in
the chimney
strange muted voices
filtered through thin hotel walls
keeping me awake
–
overcast-
alone again
far from home
snow laden branches
bent over in silent prayer
to the cold north wind
–
unanswered prayers-
the stone floor cold
against his cheek
the creak of hinges-
curtains drawn against the light
rising in the east
–
fading daylight-
the rustle of
leathery wings
the coals put to bed-
a sugar coated landscape
greets me at sunrise
–
saturday morning-
full of promise
beyond my bed
a walk in the woods-
the ice covered snow crunching
underneath my boots
–
freezing rain-
my nerves
tested
the last leaf of fall-
waiting for the warm spring sun
buried under snow
–
falling sleet-
an icy glaze
on english ivy
my outstretched fingers-
reaching out for your touch but
you’re already gone
–
icy fog-
your skin cold
to the touch
well before sunrise
the clamor of rubbish bins
echoes in my sleep
–
venus rising-
masked bandits
steal my trash
the scent of rabbit
coaxes the fox from her den
and into the snow
–
late winter-
fresh snow
on the deadfall