bare trees stand in the morning stillness as
silent watchers, empty, cold air fills the gaps
between the branches and withering leaves
a tender cry cuts past the bedroom door
his comfort rushes to her
hands desperate but tainted with selfishness

a daughter bundled in wrath, braces for the trudge ahead

sideways he staggers one foot, and then the other
thump, thump, and THUMP
the veil unravels, before the bathroom mirror
a man caught between fury and shame

he sees her frail blanket, and can only reach for more

if i lie in bed
at night with the phone
flashlight on

so i can see the careful night
staring back at me

will i remember the taste
of summer
though late winter stings like california

will i watch a squinting sun
look at me like a black hole
though the night stays calm beside me

to find something
to know it

if i lie in bed
the dotting black of my room is the universe the flashlight is on
and i am the sun

You are lovely
like birds in winter,
a rare sight when the world has turned its
back.
When solitude slips into
loneliness,
and the echo of forgotten places
becomes a silence so loud
it deafens—
you.
You shouldn’t be here,
but you are.
Fragile and feathered,
defying the dying world
with every beat of your wings.

I’ve shrunk myself before,
folded into corners,
but you—
you are smaller still,
yet somehow
you stand taller than the frozen trees.
You sing in the biting cold,
pirouette on the barren branches,
murmur in the bleakest of skies.

Unshaken by the darkest days,
you’re here to remind me
that something in me is, too.
No matter how dark,
no matter how cold,
no matter how dead it all seems—
there’s always something flying,
something singing,
something alive
in that desolate stretch.

It may seem
small

but,

it’s enough.

A Gulf Stream wisp, whistles, languidly,
along, a recalcitrant breeze.
Speaking of temperature, angrily.
The Pavement, can't help, but, freeze.

Branches, embarrass themselves,
with, protruding bark, baring all.
Their dream, is to one day, be shelves.
When, a messianic carpenter, calls.

Teeth clench. Bold, Blizzard, barges in,
nervous Fangs, creek, in Her presence.
She peppers, horizons, white, arduous sin.
Tusks, sign, mute alarms, luminescent.

Coy burrows, open their arms, to hug,
their Creators, for crisp slumbers, ahead.
Moonlit Creatures, pull and tug.
At soil, Voodoo dolls, to stab, Winter, dead.

© poormansdreams

1-15-25   3:06pm

january
the month where i start to mourn summer
and forget about the sound of the ocean

birds migrating south
darkness by 5pm
layers upon layers of clothing

but we read more books
and the neighborhood cat seeks solace in your home
snow graces the ground
a contrast between light and dark
life and dormancy

a moment to pause
to release and let go
love
shelter
the promise of spring

a slower life

I guess January isn't so bad after all

Winter crows
who cling to stalks of freezing  corn,
bathe in better times to come
and drink the glow of summer not yet born