Is it two below?
This snow says so,
squatting and groaning below me
as if my boot could kill it.
It's too far from the sun
to remember to run free
certainly flowing
toward its patiently waiting sea.
Such humanity attracts me.

Winter has teeth
as hard and sharp as your broken heart.
Don't you dare touch it.
Severe cold does little, it seems,
but does it very well.
It sits off from the warmth
because there's nowhere else to simply be
unyielding, unchanging, alone,
unforced to live,
giving nothing but stunning rejection
sparkling all brazen sunrays away
to lovers' too wide eyes
that squint away fine patterns beyond
blind to their crystalline beauty.

I know it's all here, but can't quite see
so how might I dare to get in?

I guess I shouldn't want to.
I guess I wouldn't care to crush
or melt with love such frozen stuff,
alone and liking it, blind and whole,
ever so unlike me.
It's that something so dead
it forgets to kill off the flowering dream,
drowning itself in unnamed love
with no one to hold, and naught to be.
It's too damn cold to do that.

Such humanity surely attracts me.




© G.Cassel 2004