Changes

Winter is now habitable:
the icicle’s drip
no longer creeps down my spine,
on the endless afternoon
the flurry of snow
only settles on frozen ground--
my heart’s safe now,
off limits to winter’s wilderness. 

It was not always so:
time froze on those afternoons
with each icy drip a seal,
like wax, but cold and unyielding.
Then was my heart
the frozen ground
encased in snow-white perfection. 

Each day now I bow to changes. 


                                 North Kingstown
                                 November 1987 
                                 Portsmouth
                                 April 2009 

 

 

~Return To "The Interior Self"