I could have left a note
but it’s windy over there near the bay
You’ll be back before the melting
they remind us every day anyway
I listen to Neve and The Deer Children
sing songs in a language I do not understand
Which path did you choose at the crossroad
I wonder over morning coffee
Where is her other hand you’ll probably ask
when you arrive and find my sign
Why are there no footprints
either coming or going
There’s a crack where ice meets the sun
A star open to the temporary
A hole to a cool underworld
I pause in this moment to ponder
My invitation to the party below
And yes, am I tempted
But so do I remember
Qualifications lacking
I am only half blind
Unstable when disconnected from earth
And cannot swim
A face is pressed against a window watching
sun’s slow slumber falling behind low hills
A face is thin lines etched into vapour caught
between distance and moments of deep winter freeze
Your face invisible
recording passing scenes
You are a passenger
This is a speeding vessel
You are not aimless but
I am only part time a driver
My attention wavers from
this winding road our wheels move along
That lake looks lonesome
like a wanderer dreaming of home.
I saw deer
snowfield shadows grazing
sunset purple
mountains as backdrop
my camera my camera—
They lingered stop motion soft
while I stood quiet.
Watching.
Eerie sounds from a mostly frozen lake today. Like sloshing waves beneath fragile ice.
I imagine it laughing at my caution. Waiting for me to fall thru.
I imagine snow
silencing shouts
soothing scars
quieting spirits
suspending time
between breaths
to begin
again.
Back to Winter
across the world
air drying membranes
expanded minds
withered souls.
Basement watchers crouch:
Miracles wanted here.
Pencil Notes 