stirring up cold feet
vacationing ...


There’s a shoe
And here's the snow.
The rustic power-
orange and strange
like fragrant bombs
of a very tall order-
there's a sort of blind marching game
that pulls one along sometimes.
Huge bags of what used to be feathers
among silent, fragile knapsacks of straw
tend to seem much lighter
than the most temptuous of woes.