Winter

the last leaf of fall-
waiting for the warm spring sun
buried under snow

falling sleet-
an icy glaze
on english ivy

Touch

my outstretched fingers-
reaching out for your touch but
you’re already gone

icy fog-
your skin cold
to the touch

Raccoons

well before sunrise
the clamor of rubbish bins
echoes in my sleep

venus rising-
masked bandits
steal my trash

Snow

the scent of rabbit
coaxes the fox from her den
and into the snow

late winter-
fresh snow
on the deadfall

Stone

so many evenings
spent in stony solitude
with yet without you

rain etched stones-
the once neat path
overgrown

Mist

in the morning sun
slight pockets of fog linger
on winter hillsides

morning mist-
migrating geese
hug the shore

Heat

damp and feverish-
a restful sleep eludes me
on this bed of coals

noonday sun-
ice in my glass
long turned to water

Soul

my old tired soul
steeped in warm flowing water
washing me away

frozen windows-
winter winds blow
through my soul

Rough

a pile of old clothes-
years of living on the street
etched deep in her face

dirty snow-
sleep arrives on
a cardboard box

Betrayal

lying here in bed
unnbeknownst to you your trust
already betrayed

heavy fog-
your train leaves
without me