February: Year-day 52

                                           
                                     
February: Year-day 52

How many images have been lost, friend,
like the carrot of existentialism,
the cauliflower of discontent?  Send
those to me you remember.  There's a chasm
here worth exploring, I'm sure.  Let us make
our ways into it, stubbing our soft toes
on wild roses of granite, thoughts to shake
our dreamings, dreamings of heavy snows

to bury our thoughts, to insulate them/
so they can germinate at/ the far end
of winter, wending up a leaf, a stem,
a flower for us somehow to befriend,
to inspect for a thorn, a bee, a small hem
of difference, to walk new from, to lend.

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