Tuesday, January 13, 2015


It is a season of hunger
Of pacing cabinet to fridge nibbling
edges of things
dust on restless tongues

It is a time for prowling 
Discontented stillness
impatient curses thrown
against unappeased dark

Refugees seek golden
light stories of far away 
nestled beds puddled high
with blankets to keep out
the seeping cold

Crave the bright salvation of seed
catalogs, bulbs
bought too early piled
high on porches until
the thaw
as we wait for the sun