SOMETIMES
IN
WINTER
Days of graying mist pursued her
Though she would reach
to
from the window nothing would be there. Afternoons of cold street staring brought only images of snow-slushing people, smiling and nodding to one another, connected only by walls that separated them. Stone ledges can harbor only stillness and serve as touchstone for a solicitude that pervades the room and calls the day to defuse
wipe
it
the snowflakes.
Rooms hold might
the past that the outside strip
and
freeze.
Maybe. Sidewalks of snow keep impressions and amplify footsteps if any choose to follow. Otherwise, they are only pallets for swirling snow. Dance, dance park trees call through their burden
of ice.
Here am, shout hide-andseek playing memories from behind park benches. Lightposts whisper in frozen I
rain.
Soot-painted walls taunt. Run, Run yell the gutters.
No
dancing apparitions
fill
the ceiling.
Only shafts from lamppost's dismal blur. Frozen nights do not always make for frozen lives. Sometimes
in
winter love-fire
bursts through the frigid wastes.
Making life warm and moments of sensory existence glistening.
Snow
falls, all
covering
history of entanglements
Allowing no one to read snow-pictures. andrew
24
p.
woolley
III