Wednesday, December 23, 2015

Jeremy Seligson writes

16.

O
L
D

G
U
Y

W
I
N
T
E
R





                        Cradle
            up

                        to
                                    bury

                                                on
                                    Cat
                                        Hill
            ~ my
                        dear
                                    friend


As
            he
                        gives

                                    his
          last
                    breath

leaving
            a
                        heap

            of
                        black
                                    and
                                                white
                        I
                                    sigh



                    Curtains
                                        of
                                                  light
            open
                                    through
                                                            pines

                        for
                                    one
                                                kneeling
                                                                        soul


Old
          guy
                        shambles
                                                by

            No~
                        where
                                    special
                                                to
                                                            go


Can’t
            find
                        a
                                    path

            Still,
                        his
                                    body
                                                knows


            Once
                        sky
                                    goes ~

            a
                        cloud
                                    country

            over
                        which
            you
                        could
                                    wander
                                                            for
                                                                        days


                        Glance
          away

                        and
                                     soon
                                                sight
                                                           
                                                            valleys
                                                of
                                                            snow


Starving
          white
                    dog
                       
                                    has
                                                broken
                                                            free

            leaving
                        her
                                    chains

                                                for
                                                            me


                        “What’s
                                    drifting
                                                by …?”

                                                           
                                    “Just
                                                another

                                                            old
                                                            white
                                                                      dog …”


                                                White
                                                            dog

                                    and
                                                gray
                                                            man

                        cross
                                    paths
                                                                                   
                                                ~ just
                                                  ghosting


          Over
                              Snow
                                                  Mountain

~ my
                        only
                                                friend


Magpies ~
                        cold
                                    and
                                                clacking ~

            of
                        course,
                                    they’d
                                                have

                        some~
                                    thing
                                                to
                                                            say


                        Cold
            and
                        wet

                                    ~ blown
                                                low

                        only
            crows
                        cling            
           
                                    on
                        such
                                    branches



                                    “Who
                                        am
                                                  I …?”

                        A
                                    sheet               
                                                of
                                                            ice
                                                                        replies


Finger
            your
                        name
                                    in
                                                snow

            She
                    already
                              knows


          A
                    white
                              rabbit
                                                chomps
                                                            leeks               
                                    in
                                                snow

                        “Could
                                    I
                                                carry
                                                            you
                                                                        home
                                                for
                                                            my
                                                                        daughter …?”


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