Saturday, November 16, 2013

when winter comes

When winter comes
clouds form on the wet street
from trapped heat
then dissipate
before rising
the sky
falls down,
the plane descends,
the year ends
as grown ups
make amends.

bundled children
scurry free of care,
the train ticks
in time
as snowflakes
no bigger than pinpricks
I peer through the window
of the swaying silver car;
when I look beyond my own reflection
I see a canvas of grey-blue slate
with strokes both bold and fine made
by a hiding artist
covering these passing warehouses
and classic bungalows
in delicate monochrome.
The stripes of blowing snow
appear as road-markers
lifted from the ground
leading me home
before evening pounds
on the door.

I am no longer
in a holding pattern,
somewhere between
sky and land.
These feet
were made
to greet cracks
and the sound
of traffic
means I am
drawing near
to the loved ones
on my street
where the trees
are stripped
for a slow season
of naked beauty.

When Winter Comes
a poem by Troy Cady

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