i coat my narrative .....

i coat my narrative in metaphors 

where aging becomes feathers against the grain of time 

dust motes denote the mundane 

rising rising -- the sun & the sandhill cranes found in moments golden 

still 

as the snow wrapped prairie waits for spring 

flying dogs

It's the season of the flying dogs
misunderstod
misfit mongrels of winter
bark as bad as the bite
rough as the walnut's silence
pensive and remorseful
should have flown south to warmer climes
yet here we lie
folded--felted
    into the snap & chill of a Tuesday
Oh!

to be a cardinal content as the moon
contrast abiding
current riding
feathered crimson against this day
and the sound of fleeing sorrow
steadfast the hounds of frost
determined
misguided

they circle to find the
sun

new year

we write and we breathe
we live
we die
taking inventory of our days, our hours
hopefully noticing the snap of the stars at night
at mercy to the sorrow-holes
at mercy to the sun's reflection
we show up
we retreat
we grasp & release
resolutions made by fools & thieves
paths are walked by the weary paisley'd wanderer
in woods dappled by constrast
hold it in--
--then--

give it away give it away 

with
arms made sinewy & beautiful
to hold the sky

to hold the fragile
backs of willow-marble-pink to lean into the wind
legs both sure & liquid
a heart that recalls the taste of snowflakes on my tongue
and
the magnetic north of your skin
and
dreams that speak the gypsy tongue

we write
we breathe
unfolding to the evergreen of possibility
to the grace within---

we breathe