Saturday, January 18, 2014

I Think It's Saturday

Back Here in Siberolina

The more I sit
In a routine cold





















The more a confusion creeps in

It snowed again
When
I don't know
It comes in waves

And then it's gone





















A biting cold is the new routine
I sit
Inside
With three trapped cats
I think it's Saturday





















I hear distant explosions
More than once

It will melt
It always does
Maybe on a Saturday


1 comment:

Lola said...

I like your poetry. It sure looks good. Not long till gardening in ernest will begin.