The first of all months may be best
for much that has little real zest.
The coldness and hotness
may be too monotonous,
but life is a purposeful pest.
WINTER SOLSTICE
As we move into an
old year's last moment,
race toward your car
and start it up.
The main event will
be a swift drive into
the setting of stoplights.
Around and about, all
will be as silent as an
excursion to Mars.
WINTER GARDEN
A glorious bunch of radishes
has poked the surface.
Among the grasses a
steady chirp is sounding.
We hardly mind the presence
of chilly air or a glistening
set of frost patches.
As we lounge toward a fountain
we notice that spring isn't
in the atmosphere.
WINTER WISHES
The fondest desires are those that outlast
the rose's firm wish to fade fast.
FLOWERS IN WINTER
As a mighty stunner
the budding has
looks far funner
than all that jazz.
The plant in blossom
resembles me
when I've played possum.
A nearby tree
sheds leaves of wonder
while dogs walk under.
THE PAIN IN THE RAIN, AND TRY AGAIN
As a responsive electorate,
the people believed that
raininess mattered. The
drops that fell were
in anguish. They sensed
a need to be trying.
Again and again a trick
took place. You be
the jury, damn it!
SAVING LIGHT
The light is a minuscule fact.
The world has the teeth of a dog.
When winter approaches, we're sacked.
The light is a minuscule fact.
Endeavors eternally act,
and nothing is not a vast hog.
The light is a minuscule fact;
the world has the teeth of a dog.
