CHICAGO ORD by Surajit Chakravarty |
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WINTER'S COMFORT
by John Abbott Traffic was good out on the westbound, light swarming through new growth, pine tree hills gently bruised by runoff. It'll be dark soon but next week a little later, and then the next week later still. I can finally see myself settling into this season; observing the various shades of brown that make up the tree trunks is an exercise in patience and denial, a ritual we take comfort in and try to forge meaning out of, or maybe just get lost in the motion of trees rushing by, waving me on to the next destination. |
ICY by Brenda Yamen |
| APRIL STEPS OUT
by B.Z. Niditch April steps out of its breathless shadowy earth on common ground near the blue hills and am realizing there is no bread in the kitchen, my winter treasure has been squandered lost with rain and fog, still the wish for first light on your threshold's faded welcome mat, or to hear Coltrane with a coffee, showers fill my hands on the cold porch, snow gardens like my frozen breaths are disappearing, we tremble with the trees in a past landscape by Cezanne finding notes in a foreign tongue on the piano and all familiar stuff of nature, the dead bird's wings, the watery grass, school children on ice on the indigo pond in a pale dawn, windows with writing by my newly uncovered sun glasses, my diary still sitting with red ink on the sofa has a voice in memory for what we are really searching for. |
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