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
though i hate
the cold
with my entire being
there is something lovely
about the coziness
and whoosh
of warmth
a whole host of
feelings
dreary
hungry
tired
that seem to
disconnect
me from feeling
any other things
[inspired
full-spirited
interest]
~~~
this winter seems to go on forever
except
unlike the Wisconsin winters
i’d been used to,
this one has a very
Cleveland flare:
stopping for a day or two,
letting the flowers in the yard
start to peak from the ground,
green stems pointing towards the sky,
before dumping another
few inches
or damn near
a whole foot
of freezing rain/hail/sleet/
pure snow
on us once more
(only to have all that
melt
in a matter of days,
and have the buds
begin
to emulate
full flowers;
colors in the back
side
front yards
before it all turns to white again
just for the green to stick out
over top)
the fight
over what season
March
should be.
~~~
what to write about
in mornings when i feel
the least like myself;
not even more sad
than my usual rainbow demeanor,
just too tired
to be
me
?
yesterday it rained
not from clouds or sky
but from frozen branches
and telephone wires
and i walked
under the melting drops
and cared for a twisted ankle
and recorded auditions
and read for classes
and i felt so
accomplished.
and today i read for myself
and relaxed the day away with my spouse
and noticed the ankle not doing too well
and rehearsed for a different class
and waited to poem my poetry
and both sky and ground
were clear
and dry
and i still
can feel
accomplished.
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.
the snow sprinkles downwards
as i look towards the sky
wondering why
wonder when
wondering how
the beauty laid out on the ground
but i always search for answers
rather than accepting
beauty for beauty’s sake
(which may make me a curmudgeon,
but damn is there beauty in science
too)
kipventures 