Saturday, February 11, 2006


Early evening walk
ice crunching beneath my boots

in the east, dark clouds
are rising from behind the crater.

Night is falling
down through winter stars

and geese call overhead
their wildness echoing in the blue air.

A man walks by,
softly says good evening.

His hair is fine and brown
falling in his eyes.

I want to brush it back
and I don't know why

except that the rosy light of snow
on the mountain is so tender I could cry

but the wind picks up, stinging my face
and I hurry home

to scribble in my books
poems of light and wings and desire.

- mimi


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