winter pirouettes before me
with whispered words in the
teeth of zephyr I cannot discern —
you suggest that the cold is the
heart of the problem where I
belong; I cannot extricate myself
from the end without knowing
the beginning, I prefer the lilt
of reflective silence over the
dulcet towns of scarlet summer
whose skirts are always warm;
the deafening quiet untangles all
the worlds imprisoned in my head
more than the pretty distraction
of all the other visions of loveliness
that have the audacity to say they’re
seasons and nothing more than this.
“Winter’s Dance” was printed in Harvest Time, No. 5 of Inwood Indiana. Pick up the paperback from Prolific Press; the stories and poems published online are free to read here.
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