Purposeful Mimicry

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In the best of company

Harmony days hand-picked for setting the baggage free.

Never far away from the mountain of tempestuous temperatures.

I had knocked on heaven’s door…

But in truth, it took one knock more.

My nemesis is my best friend.

On that outward voices can depend.

Pointing out my flaws…with no compliance to chivalry.

Directing my defects with purposeful mimicry.

He, she or it…the devil’s personal dictator.

Always in the background portraying a self-indulgent Master Piece theater…narrator.



future-of-farms-1 the-future-of-farms-4

Whether the Weather

Whether not the willow

the fiddler


the fall.

Whether within reach of…

the library

the cross in the hall


the papers

that paper the wall.

Either a big city under heaven’s hood.


a shack in the woods.

Either kind-hearted


prone to damnation.

Whether it is unimportant to



meaningful to


Weather is not what it

used to


When Hell Freezes Over

There are times, I realize, that bitching about New Hampshire and its winters…can seem redundant.  If I could there would be equal complaints about the ‘hot and steamy’ weather.  But that would only be a lie!  My wife prefers to be cold.  She believes that she can always get ‘warm’.  That is bullshit!  Once you are cold in 30 below weather.  Out on some unbeaten path.  When choosing to take the road not traveled by…and, the wind chill brings frozen tears to your eyes, I say, fuck winter!

Residents of Hell in Michigan have experienced temperatures as low as -26C, according to the National Weather Service.

It comes as northern parts of the US are gripped by a polar vortex.

According to a town Facebook page, they have not had as much snow as during other winters “but we are much colder”.

“Yes, Hell has frozen over,” the page added.

Some residents have been forced to head to an emergency warming centre which also doubles as a saloon.

The cold snap has been felt across a number of northern states, with temperatures reportedly feeling as low as -45C (-49F) with wind chill.

Approaching the Storm

The scent of an approaching snowstorm hangs in the air.

Like the smell of fresh laundry hung on the line.

A breeze is suspicious and foreboding.

And, within one momentary breath, townspeople, will dart hazardous-ly about…

With no true concept of time.spring storm 1

Cleansed in Winter’s Warmth

A scent of warmth fills the air.

Yet, being mid January, this toying game…

appears cruel and unfair.

Unsullied water, forgotten berry and mulch…

Apprehend such a brief snippet of time.

And, the long-awaited spring never remains…for long,

on the mind.imageedit_35_5231596101