snow

this is the perfect time-
the best time to see the smells she follows
and to follow in turn
without seeing her path
trapsing, we come accross the quiet spots
and each one we circle fully
before moving to the next,
sounding them out with our mouths
and with our limbs;
finding the incongruous edges
with our eyes
and storing them deep
for later use

corn stove blues

she sets in-
i barely notice.
i've been turning this 'round for hours,
no signs of giving in
or letting up...
i quit for thirty-seven minutes
hoping she'll walk home
find another to wait on,
settle in elsewhere
for the coldest winter on record.