for a moment of joy or moments no one pays for, i give myself a ‘jornal’. this makes me rich. try it.

Spring snow

To wake up to snow-clad trees

but knobbed not bare-skinned

a streaming not of rain

on frosted glass but of

quiet snow frantic

in dance, winter as yet

reluctant to let

robins be as sparrows

sprint as if free.


To wake up not to

spring but snow-

bearded day delayed

in clockwork, stumbling

onto the breakfast

ledge spooning spring

against winter, buds

retracting in the snow

birds muted, quivering,

hearts like mine

suddenly uncertain.


I give myself $500 as ‘jornal’ for this thought that came as a poem and not as the essay I intended. Do you think my valuing is right?

March 11, 2009 - Posted by | poetry, reflection | , , , ,

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