LEAVES ON ICE – III

 

Lost words
serves me right
choose your platform
I wrote

Out there in the hustle
frozen hand shooting
eye thawing
words waking

Now all’s lost and
found easy
limitless playing
working words

Leaves on ice
are fixed
waiting for the true thaw
waiting stepping

Backward forward
back and forth again
pacing placing spacing
eye peeled

Poised above
life’s minutae
expanding into sweet irrelevance
Leaves on ice.

 

– Diane Sophrin
  Vermont (3.16.23)

 

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