These streets are frozen now. I come and go Full of a longing for something I do not know My father sits slumped in the deepening snow As I search, in

almost spring but darker
the dusk holds whats left of
the garden up
mush, rot, and leaves
a pumpkins last few weeks on this earth

boring
dull
evil

peaks in our windows again
an empty streets empty branches
blend
good with car exhaust
and long gridlocked commute


long waves of thaw
and winters blunt edge
working


the red bud and dogwood wait for me
the garden where
your Azaleas will hold me
melts
rhododendron in spring is
proof enough