The Next Crossroads

I curl into life made convenient: Warm walls, Pink petals Sprouting so perfect You would never guess there is snow outside. I collapse into the catastrophe Of other people's lives: News of lost causes, Long standing disasters, Birth, Romance, Going to bed on time, All at my fingertips And I am never alone. I am alone And the silence is deafening. I curl into life made convenient. I save leaping without looking For tomorrow.

I rush into warmth before the snow starts, Your stare is ice at my entrance, "Don't start..." The floor boards crack where my shadow starts, Extensions of the creases on my heart. Rise to the occasion when endings start. The dissection of errors is an art. The piece is mostly the same as its start, Only impoverishment sets it apart. Blue melts into an aqua-marine start, A wave assaults the shore line like a dart. Where the concrete ends and wild wood creeks start Spirit is unmeasured by market charts. I turned away before the tears could start And stepped into the night at your departure.

She thought the grass was enough for her: The rocks, and dirt and trees. She could stand on the ground forever And never touch the sea. Nothing changed and nor did she In her temple on the shore. She watched the waves move to and fro. Watched, and nothing more. One day an Eagle lighted down Beside her sturdy gate, A dancing, tumbling acrobat Of air and dreams and grace. He circled round her temple walls, His talons raked her door. His voice and wing tips called to her Like nothing had before. She stepped outside and stared at him. His eyes were a white patch sail. His feathers were black man o' wars That surfaced off his tail. He quickly circled round about And out to the cliff's edge. She chased madly after him But froze upon the ledge. He disappeared from out of view, And she sunk to her knees. She knew she could not follow him To his castle on the breeze. She trampled back to her temple yard Feeling tiny and alone. She never saw the bird again At her altar made of stone. Yet

The fire is slowly dying And my dear, were still goodbyeing But as long as you love me so, Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow! -Sammy Cahn (Let it Snow ) The tiny cottages in our hearts Are sheltered from storms and ice. Scattered embers are gleaming Between lovers wrapped like knots Around each others destinies. And they hold the heart back Or push it forward with their songs. One stands up and pokes at the coals. Sparks fly up burning her fingers. The fire is slowly dying. The chambers in my heart are vacant Of summertime tourists fleeing the frost. The floorboards are much too cold For bare feet, creeping through Like strangers. In my memory you still sweep Into the rooms there. Your voice fills my heart with music. I will never watch your back As you flee out the front door and into the storm. And, my dear, we're still goodbyeing. I wish you would write me A letter from your season. Tell me of the surfing waves and The night the monsoon C

Day. A lonely dock. The snow hesitates to fall On my new sneakers.