Winter

photo by Eric Alder

photo by Eric Alder

In mediocrity, there’s complacency,
an uneasy sense of non-urgency.
Thick as molasses, dragging my ass off;
a self-made Hades, I can’t seem to cast off.

Chills up my spine creep into my mind,
freezing thoughts in space and time.
I wish they ran smooth, warm and collected
like shells on a beach that’s connected

to the birth of a race, our humble beginnings.
I think I’ll return, start planning my trip and
when I arrive, dive deep in the waters;
find calm and peace in something that matters.

For right now, purpose all but eludes me.
Long winter nights hardly amuse me.
Mundane tasks bear down like a mass.
Three more months? Don’t think I can last.

Life and Death – a poem

I feel the breath of death
in my chest at night
as I gaze out,
over sleeping fields

where soybean babies
are born. The corn,
its rows now covered

with a white mirror for the stars,
took its turn last year.

A lone tree, gnarly and naked
against the studded sky,
beckons not,
no matter how long I

linger and lament, aching
for winter’s thrusts of gusts;
wanting its swirling,
numbing embrace.

Exhalations fog unlocked panes
where death gathers in corners,
forming crystals – the origin of life.