No More Snow Days

those frozen crystals
one after the next
swirl and gust, dance
in sky, as we stare
hoping streets turn white

with each inch on ground
silent time arrives
waiting by the radio
listening to county
after county close schools

for children only think
of sledding and cocoa, and
knocking powder off oak branches
landscape like the untouched moon

today with Zoom the flakes
still descend, but screens trap
the young inside their computers
a flat warm world without end
no more snow days

Little Oceans

Puddle, seconds before child 
stomps that glistening water, sky rain, 
cousin to Atlantic and Pacific.

Wet space where Trident gum lives between 
teeth and tongue, swishing this way and that, 
minty boat soon to be spit out.

Blue eyes, reflecting sunset waves, dancing 
light, endless saltwater pools, see, feel
everything.

Square windowed snowfall, winter flakes 
drift, living Monet, pine trees frozen 
in distance.

 

North Pond Hermit

they say he broke
into dozens of homes
to steal calories, for
each winter he had

to survive Maine woods
under sleeping bag after
sleeping bag, wake himself
at 2am some freezing

nights just to move
around and live, not
die of frozen heart
stoppage of blood like

how time stood still
his twenty seven years
alone in trees listening
to the chickadees, chickadees

he listened more than
the rest of us
who were warm watching
M*A*S*H reruns, wondering when

the next war would
begin, but he never
even looked at his
own reflection, didn’t witness

the changing of human
events, his were the
seasons, and the thieving
moments late at night

so he could stay
alone forever, however long
that might be, but
one evening he was

caught and it all
ended, his silent solitude
had to speak again
sad, no longer free