Message in a snowstorm:
If my love could not walk to you…It would crawl. So, long the blizzard, which has encompassed my soul. No need to rhyme now. My longing for you has its rights, in which to grow old.
This morn, watching the puppy rummage in places he should not be. Though the hillside laden in ivory. I had seen things it has taken a lifetime to see.
Within the snow-globe that is our way of life; a once wounded bird. No longer confined to a conforming flight. A sheltered friend that does not wince upon movements that beyond slight.
It is human nature. In particular, beings taken to glass slippers with cracked heels. To outwardly give, more than they feel. I would reckon; the disposable perceptions…by nature, a sign of the times. Strays prodding along. Neither unkind or kind.
Long winded, as I always tend to be, let me pin point with flakes of white, before consciousness burden my encouragement. Making my intentions…less free.
You had told me the other day
…if I knew the words to comfort, I’d give them to you…
It took hours, days, seconds, to uproot the truth. There in the snow. Like a pumpkin cast out by the change of season. I, and the dog, heeded your tenure of reason.
Summer, along with all the ripples.
Fall, among leaf falling, abstract and simple.
Spring, a change for the natural congregations.
Winter, when trauma sets in.
Adorns its station.
I have been guided to cherish beyond infatuation.
Slack of foot. The Nor’easter left us no choice but to head home. Like sorrowful dogs without a bone. Nothing of remorse came our way. Just a thoughtful reflection of love for just one day.