how gentle the snowflake
as it
tethers itself
to a falling feather
and thus
its impossible lightness
gives the feather
that extra bit of gravitas
and the feather says
“Look at me, look at me
riding the sky, surfing the swell.
Look at me, look at me.”

how heavy the feather
as it
falls in swift motions
of despair
as snowflakes
impossible in their lightness
coagulate, become one
to break the feather’s pride
and thus
it takes one last peek
one last reach
one last breath
their lightness

Virgin Earth

A themed challenge on Winter.


Ears on fire
fingertips hurt
pin cushion cheeks
a nose that’s burnt.

All this pain
I will endure
on a morning like this
air crisp and pure.

Ducks do practice
for Dancing on Ice
A Heron to judge
a look that could splice.

Further along
the canal takes a twist
where skimming snowflakes
a winter morn’s bliss.

All this happens
while you’re so fast asleep
you miss the wonders
of mid-winter’s treat.

So do what I do
and wake with the birds
put on your clobber
and tread virgin earth.