Friday, January 25, 2013

6.



On this frankly frigid
winter's day,

Trees are the members
of an ascetic tribe

Snow is the carapace
of a buried dreamer

A blue jay mocks
my purple sneakers

And oxygen is
a diamond dust

filling my iron lungs

4 comments:

the walking man said...

I only wish the iron was harder than diamond, Sarah, the air may scratch a bit but when it cuts...

Maybe we all should switch our imagery early to summer...three bitter cold days is about all the winter I want.

Charles Gramlich said...

Those last couple of lines are breathtaking.

Sarah Hina said...

Mark, I was putting up with winter just fine until this week. The nerve of this season. Hmph.

Charles, thank you, my friend!

Aniket Thakkar said...

And oxygen is nothing
to the white walkers

heading to Iron throne

Winter is coming!