if i can pour silence in a cup
i would like to drink it at night
not as warm maple tea
but cold as winter ice wine
not too sweet or spicy
to run down my throat to ignite
excitement or astonishment
but rather
the familiar hug of an old
friend, that knows the hollows
& turns of my seasons
& times when i need
to see the starlights and
the new moon instead of
full-bodied white wintered sky-
what space i have drawn
is briefly magical as blooming
pink peonies
in between frames,
i am unemcumbered by the weights
& stresses of the day
i get lost in the maze & snarls of words
-coaxing lines muddled with black birds-
as i inhale the crisp smell of pine trees
alas, the noise of the house
clatters & hums as the clock
steals away an hour & marks it:
(false) spring!
Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetry of Place and Space, hosted by Ingrid. Thank you Ingrid!!! There are references of the city and country where I have now resided for 18 years. We have a long winter season.
