There\u2019s not much,
\nhere or there,
\nthat I can put on the table today.
\nThe sun remains in a closet.
\nThe fog trails down the street
\nlike a discarded shirt.
\nThe workweek begins
\nbut there is no one out.
\nNo one lingering to admire
\nthe first crocus,
\nthe red buds coming out
\non the maple.<\/p>\n
Voices are missing,
\nthe busy gait of the children,
\npeople stirring.
\nWhat can one do for today?
\nA silent beach?
\nA becalmed sail?
\nNo stories from the past,
\nnothing beyond the overcast sky.
\nA day just starting,
\nbut refusing to go on.<\/p>\n
You could say that tomorrow
\nwill be sunny,
\nyesterday was a peach.
\nWinter is gone
\neven before spring begins,
\nbut that\u2019s it.
\nThat\u2019s life in the year 2012,
\nbefore the next ice age,
\nglobal warming,
\nthe birth of a new messiah
\nor a young fool.<\/p>\n
Something,
\nsomewhere is happening.
\nWaterfalls mixing it up
\nwhile I have coffee,
\nand watch the morning open,
\ngray and still,
\nwhile a comet
\nfalls somewhere in glory.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
There\u2019s not much, here or there, that I can put on the table today. The sun remains in a closet. The fog trails down the…<\/p>\n