it blows into february
the air of awful anticipation on its wing
the cold burning even colder
than january’s sting
at least there’s snow
from the first month’s storm
whitening the ground
providing [minimal] distraction
from second month’s
curse
snow
January 31, 2026
two panic attacks
[or something like them]
in one month
after years of fair avoidance
i cannot tell if something is
going on
inside me
or if it simply the strain
of the external forces
of the world i cannot control
[but still affects us all]
or maybe
maybe
it’s the strain of january
of winter
when i can never see the light of spring
at the end of the proverbial
tunnel
just give me one crocus blossom
one sprig of green
not these mountains of slush-snow
and lows below zero overnight
i need something
something
something to keep me going
this has been the longest january i’ve seen
since wisconsin
January 25, 2026
if you follow the dancing sheet of snow
as it leaps up from its tree branch
and swirls down below
each individual snowflake
becomes part of something
larger
and more whole
and as it settles on the ground
it joins a community there as well
some staying
some picking up and dancing more
elsewhere
and on and on and on it goes
one flake
one wind
many options
infinite paths
but always
somehow
together
with others
when needed
the metaphor for community is there
it needs some refining
some shaping and sculpting
[like most communities do, i’d wager],
but it’s hard to see any independent entity
once you realize
what community truly means
to the survival
of anyone
or anything.
January 24, 2026
the swell of the smell of
baking bread
with the spices still entwined
in the ridges and lines
of my hands
[the morning between
an economic blackout day
and a snow day]
[we can be a cozy, homey couple
when we want to be]
December 14, 2025
look at it snow
look at it snow
the frozen, wet wet droplets, careening down to the ground
with all their friends, with all their friends,
coating our new york city
with a wintry wonderland mix of
wet and beauty
white and sludgy
and making me feel like
i’m almost ready
for the rest of this season
[but only if it’s going to be
this
gorgeous]
April 12, 2025
gross
gross
the snow falling
in april
as i’m trying to believe
with all my might
that it might be
spring
January 16, 2024
finally
finally
we have snow!
the ominous winds
have slowed
to a gentle breeze/
a softer blow/
carrying upon it
flecks of white and
cold as ice, but
piling up like pillows.
the puppy, she leaps and bites
at each shovel-full/
each chunk of salt
scattered for safety
scattered for prosperity
scattered for the memory
of living in wisconsin
and doing this daily.
though it hasn’t felt like winter
until this very snowfall,
i immediately regretted
wanting
and taunting
the skies with my lines
after each prediction of precipitation
“i’ll believe it when i see it.”
now that i’m dealing with it,
i believe it
i believe it
now can it
be over with?
March 14, 2023
chunky flakes
floating
falling
flailing
from the sky-clouds
towards their kin
is march-month our snowy-winter now?
February 28, 2023
it took until
the night before
the last day of February
for snow to fully blanket
New York City
and that last day,
did it glisten and glow?
did it soften the world?
were there snowmen and angels about?
no.
24 hours post-semi-blizzard,
the air around it
started to melt the white stuff,
and turn it into ice over that night,
and dripping, dropping slush the next day.
what a grey and gloomy,
cold and foreboding,
proof of climate change winter
we’ve had this year
February 13, 2022
yesterday
Kip and i walked outside sans coats,
and built a greenhouse on our deck,
and swept away dead leaves,
and soaked up the sun
as long as we could
(and still a little longer)
knowing that
February 50-degree weather
lasts not nearly as long
as most would like…
and lo and behold,
this morning we woke to
giant, wet snowflakes
dropping from the sky,
piled high on the greenhouse,
and packed atop the steps
kip had so painstakingly ridded of leaves
less than twelve hours prior.
but we still walked
(with coats)
and kip built a tiny snow-person
and the sun didn’t shine as brightly through the snow-clouds,
but i suppose this is the point
of living somewhere
with cycles of weather
that come and go;
so you remember to enjoy the sun
when it arrives…
and it will arrive
again
soon.
kipventures 