by winteryder



sky heavy, spring snowflakes drift listlessly

from the darkened edges of a too-early morning.

every joint a rusty hinge,

every muscle a torn quilt piece-

every step of the spiral staircase

an exercise in suspended disbelief


a day worn sideways

its shirtsleeves knotted

holding working arms trapped,

movement limited, function denied

a pi day without pie


“no good deed goes unpunished”

blusters winter’s last hurrah

and my Blizzaks sing through it all

and my car drives to work on its own

while an unexpected sunrise breaks

from under the blanket of gloom


the edges of morning peel back

a pillar of sunlight shoots straight up through it all

clouds illuminate in brilliant pink and lavender and orange

a glow so powerful that half the sky pulses with color

i slow to a crawl, and with me a whole line of traffic

for a moment, there is nothing else


just humans in our metal bubbles, peering through glass

straining to see the horizon, letting sunrise in

to a tired morning, an unsettled monday

worker bees all, we find our accelerators and drift

some toward light and others

toward listless snowflakes.