Winter Window
To absorb into the soft rain
and its abundances,
shaded by January sky, by
quiet tree limbs, one sees sentry
electric poles and signs of life
inside the souls of cars
parked off the street.
The percussive morning music
softly drones and the mind
flits: the fire, the warmth,
a warm thought, a draught of
memory, simple melody of
muddled, mossy colors.
Spring will have its way, in
time, but this moment, to
sit is not even to wait.
(1/18/2011)
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