dogtrax

Rushing by, hurry - the kids are in a flurry of a wild escape

Shouting poems on air, the flock of geese barely cares if words become noise

Frozen angles and jagged geometric shape; a fallen snowflake

Inside a canvas painted white with winter ink, the Evergreens dance

You see the whole of things, Charles Wallace, while we capture only the softest of edges

It's almost as if you're invisibly threaded in connection to your sister, her thoughts in the night like starlight,

and yet, you fall silent near strangers, observant as always, always noticing the slightest twitches in the fabric of time

You might do well to learn to wear humility as a blanket, for the universe depends upon you

a poem inspired by A Wrinkle In Time

for #OpenWrite

Winter wind, whipping through fields – a storm's been brewing: panic on the loose

Beneath snow, ice — an invisible layer of danger

Tread carefully where nature is known to harden in form

We wander this world always on the edge of collapse

for #OpenWrite

A smile, etched in snow, a gesture to let you know there's love in the world

Worse than silence, the tenor sax sounds wounded, like an old cat in the corner of a room - out of tune and out of sorts – my breath, of course, out of sync with its notes: it's broke but can be fixed; it's this I think about in the days it lays open on the workshop table, the technician like surgeon taking my Martin apart – reduced to pads and keys and levers and springs – things just scattered about - piece by piece by piece, until that moment of re-connection, when repairs have been complete

for #OpenWrite about healing and hurt (Martin is a brand of tenor saxophone)

Deep in the pockets of my uncle's overcoat, an old note, he wrote