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I write today of my loves
of the joys of spreading coals
through my inward body
and the rippled breezes
that change the shape of me
the joy of praying to the elements
the strange events of my inner world
that hiccup and whir
even thunderclaps of fear
or cavernous sorrows
nothing sweeter than winter sun
I was slow today
Slow enough to watch
winter birds on electrical wire
Slow enough to walk to
waves of blue
above the pale city haze
slow enough to hear
footsteps on meringue snow
and the radio hum of
human voices
the clear words of children
sleds being dragged
cause the very earth to
give a damp shiver