Blizzard
Snow falls:
years of anger following
hours that float idly down –
the blizzard
drifts its weight
deeper and deeper for three days
or sixty years, eh? Then
the sun! a clutter of
yellow and blue flakes –
Hairy looking trees stand out
in long alleys
over a wild solitude.
The man turns and there –
his solitary track stretched out
upon the world.
The senses, past and present mix, into a profound attempt at rendering consciousness itself?
chr1