trying to snow


runt crystals caught

by a dull beam

between sleet and a promise

hovering between states

fading wasabi fast

cold wind nibbles

like a three a.m. piss

that isn’t worth getting out of bed for

not quite snow

equivocates into memory

an arctic outflow bullies clouds along

until it is simply cold

leaving trees bare

fading into sharp slivers

of black in the night

unadorned for now

except for a premonition



David Trudel   ©  2013




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