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Poet

First Falling

Let me say something:
About the first snowfall of the season.
Profound, witty, conversational and knowing.
Displaying a lifetime of winter hubris.

Let me chastise those:
Who cannot drive in this weather.
Who do not have snow tires.
Who have not planned as well as I.

Let me ignore my:
Times in the ditch, cold and bewildered.
Failure to carry an emergency kit.
Falling flat on my ass on the icy sidewalk.

Let me boast of:
Being born to this harsh climate.
Enduring winter after winter.
Knowing how to dress for the cold.

How I do love winter.
Separating grasshopper from ant.
So proud of my winter doings.
Because I always get it right.

 

Zero

Zero, my wise counsel

Assured and content

You stand for nothing

Zero, my exotic friend

Soft breath of wind

You are spice mystery

Zero, my dragon slayer

Magic of division

You wield the infinite

Zero, my knowing one

Still eye of calm

You are never less

Zero, my trusted lover

Balance of blue

You are never more

 

Open Hands

Your hands were always empty

In the moments of taking and taking

Grasping for all that did not belong to you

And so they were always empty.

My hands were always open and offering

A gift for the taking, and you did take

And now these empty, open, offered hands

Receive more gifts than they can hold.

 

 

Shortcut

There is no shortcut where I’m headed

I go there all alone

There is no shortcut, no unintended

No cheating or sly fix

Just the straight, the sure

Wise and steady

The path I dare not miss