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a morning poem
My personal writerly work has been very sparse lately, being limited largely to emails and things for work. Friends and loved ones have inspired me to put my pen to page again, so here's the first in a while...
Lying in bed, looking out at the snow falling early this morning, these words came to mind.
Pilgrims of Winter
in the woods,
little delicate snowflakes
drifting down, kissing our foreheads,
cheeks, nose, and chin,
finding subtle, wicked ways down
to the bare skin of our ears and necks,
tickling like winsome feathers, making tiny spots of
sharp bright sensation on our sensitive skin as they
find tender unprotected places to alight, melt,
clever pilgrims of winter
Inside our bodies,
precious heat has risen to our skin
from those inner places of passion
and transforms the delicate earthbound flakes,
as they surrender their solidity
and return to liquid, droplets now,
heavier, more deliberate kisses,
sweet wet tongues of languid moisture,
joining and running in heedless rivulets,
as they mingle and consort with rough salty sweat,
trickling down our bodies, laughing
We melt as much as they,
these clever pilgrims of winter,
and enter each other, becoming.
Lying in bed, looking out at the snow falling early this morning, these words came to mind.
Pilgrims of Winter
in the woods,
little delicate snowflakes
drifting down, kissing our foreheads,
cheeks, nose, and chin,
finding subtle, wicked ways down
to the bare skin of our ears and necks,
tickling like winsome feathers, making tiny spots of
sharp bright sensation on our sensitive skin as they
find tender unprotected places to alight, melt,
clever pilgrims of winter
Inside our bodies,
precious heat has risen to our skin
from those inner places of passion
and transforms the delicate earthbound flakes,
as they surrender their solidity
and return to liquid, droplets now,
heavier, more deliberate kisses,
sweet wet tongues of languid moisture,
joining and running in heedless rivulets,
as they mingle and consort with rough salty sweat,
trickling down our bodies, laughing
We melt as much as they,
these clever pilgrims of winter,
and enter each other, becoming.
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