poem 56 of a poem a day for 2012

a quiet sip of coffee

damp grey swallows 

scatter trails the day

in stark reaches

of spiny trees 

howling the climb

with a raw

readiness of a land 

scored by a wet

warm Winter

mud flows 

spray litter shows 

in the consumptive

spillings that are 

usually buried 

beneath the snow  

the tidy way 

Winter wraps us

comfort in the cold

we're told 

it toughens 

a soul 

by conditioning 

the body

for the journey 

and not the destination 

we think time 

can get us to 

a quiet sip of coffee

dryer spinning 

crisp clink sounds

around the corner

the hum of 

the refrigerator

sings too as if they both

knew the sweep of

mechanical clocks

hypnotizes my humanity 

I've kept my head down

far too often to wear

the where of can't see 

my way through blind 

chattel embraces of

the faceless races

I've run for more 

empty spaces inside

the places I've gathered

I cover

with dust

my fires

I've put

on a

shelf

because

perhaps like

some of you

this too

is what I

often do  

to myself

to stay

seeded

and alive

with hope

EJR (c)