And with one
Quick stroke of
A freshly dipped
Pen came a
Thin dark and
Scratchy word love
It either frightens
Or it invites
But never calms
Or quiets hearts
Unless of course
It can’t be
Heard or read
And by then
Remains as silent
As the snow
Just as cold
Read it and
Hear it now
And in spring
And then summer
We are alone
Popping and absorbing
Sweet the rain
And warm sun
But then fall
Arrives as bitter
Chilling winds which
Tug and pull
Us harshly limb
From limb until
Torn we tumble
Down landing upon
Each other learning
That we all
Aren’t that different
We simply think
That we are
Like that one
Spot that you
Cannot see in
Mirror or over
Shoulder that one
Spot where you
Know something is
But simply cannot
See you fly
Blind into blizzards
Or trees or
Posts or maybe
Just maybe him/her
Poems live like
Life they blink
And inhale exhale
And sigh sometimes
Roaring while at
Others weeping they
Are my children
Gaining friends on
Their own triumphs
And heartbreak theirs
One day they
Will all breathe
On their own
The snow collected
Like halos around
Tree roots and
Toilet paper on
Eaves chill kept
It there until
Mid morning sun
Melted like a
Warming pan disappearing
Before my eyes
Like you did
Yesterday you too
Chilled by the
Frost of distance
Being one thing
And then another
First beautiful inspiration
And later something
Needed but invisible
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 