another year gone but what does it mean

my heart broke at her death his and even my own

this happens each moment so not a good measure

ground that echoes each heavy step does not hold me

I fall through endless lives to walk this street

and carry all the time I have but here

do you need it

I fill your hands to overflow with eons and the sound of love

don’t blink

should I hear a voice in this turbulent wind

I would laugh and ask it to sing

sermons already abound in this world

wisdom too can be found if sought

joy always seems in shorter supply

so give us a wild song to which we can dance

later when we’ve gone to sit by the fire

then we will ponder the mystery of it all

some things I learned that will not leave me

although I can sometimes leave them

the weight and shape of loneliness

a piece of furniture that travels easily

now hidden away in a back room

still I have opened the door after a walk

to find it sitting next to a table

where I’ll let it be for awhile before storing it away

the fragility of existence

a book whose pages I turn again and again

having found that the story ever changes

the ending certain but the how of it unknown

the unexpected gifts of love and kindness

these I keep on full display

scattered around as constant reminders

ready at hand if someone has need

they are the oddest of all, I’ve found

by the giving away they only increase

the world displays itself in starkness, a noir landscape

sky that luminous gray, the inhale before a storm

trees more cadaverous than ever, suited to ravens and crows

pavement black with remnants of rain, foretaste of what will come

wind rises suddenly, shattering the calm into a frenzied beauty

road cracks that imperfectly echo spindled branches disappear

rushed to gone by bulleted rain sent from louring clouds

stickled limbs themselves whip about in such agitation that birds depart

and a shudder of sound moves up and down the ridge

then as if by the wave of some unseen magical hand

this stills and becomes an ordinary winter morning

alone in the barren field

eyes grey as the winter sky

hands roughened by the work of time

she lets all she has known go

the house burned in the night

cinders now and drifting ash

stories carried away by the smoke

no more need of those

her heart too she has filled and emptied

given away to all in need

now she rests without want or forethought

sits on the cold hard ground

one breath, another, then one more

a faint smile, surcease

one man so incandescent with rage

he abandoned his car in the middle of Main

so he could scream and gesture rudely

at the woman behind who offended somehow

she returned his shouts with harsh words of her own

more prudently through an open car window

back and forth the insults ever louder, the voices more furious

until a town employee intervened to enable traffic’s flow

and perhaps prevent them coming to blows

there, surrounded by ornamented greenery and glittering bells

celebrating peace and goodwill towards all

a snarling beast come to claw

each unwise movement or unwary breath

rakes me with ferocious speed

stops me and makes me blind

for a moment not existent at all

I had forgotten this lesson

offered by overwhelming pain

the shattering of self again and again

the unexpected intensity a kindness granted

this a valued reminder

and the people that walk beside the tracks

in the colder hours of these cold days

shoulders bent against the harsh wind

hands tucked into pockets

coats thin against the bitter chill

these the often unseen

the rest of us do not take notice

ordinary lives rest on the lives of others

not lightly but with crushing weight

do we be less heavy a burden

do we even begin to see them

do we recognize we are them

what happens when someone shrugs

and we all come crashing down