Aerial ice, pretty
as it is sharp.
So sleepy, I am
glad of the cold jabs.
Freeze dried
flakes of air flutter over tarmac like shook out feathers.
I have a mindful
of blizzarding alphabet, a limitless thirst for coffee.
Could swallow an
ocean of coffee, hot and awake.
All the letters
just wash, in waves of tired, and wild polka dots of snow fly the night sky,
over my sinking eyes.
Lily, I don't know why you go anywhere --the landscape seems to change so radically right where you are. Wonderful text and pictures. But strangely, face in top pic looks more vigorous than I do on a cold morning.
ReplyDeleteI don't much go anywhere! But am lucky to be stuck here :-) I find the cold morning instills vigour, but it runs out when I get back home. Face in the top pic is less crumpled than mine, though I am not jealous.
ReplyDelete