Sunday, January 15, 2012

Song Five

Make no mistake about it

the Earth has turned away;

it does so every year

on this decided day; a confused soul, self

(.. and I'm lost in the snow ..)

I know these days.

I have seen too many Januarys.

Though so much is dead;

we plumb what is alive!

when I was but a kid.

this was a favorite week.

Even decades flown,

the 'years of glory' keep.

But this year, I stand in awe

of the ones who -- wear this month -- a loose garment.

Effortlessly. It is too heavy for me now.

A weight. A wet wool coat.

Universe, I beg; just get me through January. Hope.

-and destroy the vicious muse!

(I no longer want her near)

-there is a stench on her breath.
-the World can smell it. But I refuse.