In Frozen Limbo I Stroll
Man Against Nature
Many great thoughts have warmed a soul on winter walks
In Frozen Limbo I Stroll
Winter spreads
its coat of white
unbuttoned across
my shoulders like
the old shawl,
my grandmother used
to huddle under. Graying my hair
as well
prematurely,
with its burden of flakes. I hum a little ditty
that matches the rhythms
of the scrunch....
crunch...scrunch...crunch
of my steps through
inches of ice encrusted snow. My hands hibernate
between lint stalagmites
in the deep caverns
of my pockets My 10 toes are spread out
lined up in formation
in wooly warmth
on an A.M. patrol
as they spend their
assigned time
in boot camp. I squint in
the glints of a
trillion chrystal stars
that gleam in
blinding brilliance
a collision of bright sun
on frozen condensation. my breath it
forms clouds
that drift over
the crag of my nose
to dissapate against
the mountainous
face of my headlands. I am the
only silouhette
capable of blotting
out the horizon
alone in a world
of purest white
centered in acres of
vanilla nothingness.
I am a tiny speck
much like the period
which will now end
this poem.
© 2009 Matthew Frederick Blowers III