(no subject)

i've not believed that light could be so clear
there's nothing here that obfuscates the view
sound travels far on the fresh frigid air

i would not have called on watchers to beware
except that the long train was coming through
i've not believed that light could be so clear

the trees i see are grey and gaunt and bare
the changing of the seasons give the clue
sound travels far on the fresh frigid air

dead leaves still cluster just beneath the stair
the walkers in the morning they are few
i've not believed that light could be so clear

the shock of recognition makes me stare
later there's be time for a mellower brew
sound travels far on the fresh frigid air

though it be cold yet here the day is fair
each time of year receives its proper due
i've not believed that light could be so clear
sound travels far on the fresh frigid air

From the war correspondent

The War on Christmas will not end this year,
there are too many battles yet to fight;
what victory means is not, I think, yet clear.

The Feast of Mithras does not bring us cheer
yet it's His Day, and His was once the might;
the war on Christmas will not end this year.

The Saturnalia is not the day to jeer,
it's feast of misrule was, we're told, a sight,
what victory means is not, I think, yet clear.

Kwanzaa's a festival which some commenters fear
since it rejects what once they saw as right;
the war on Christmas will not end this year.

The tree of Thunor to the house we'll bear,
around it we'll array sources of light,
what victory means is not, I think, yet clear.

With coming Solstice, we'll have time to spare
to think of coming days which will be bright.
The war on Christmas will not end this year,
what victory means is not, I think, yet clear.

a piece of the continent

though may claim it there is no essence
within our hearts to make us what we are
each one of us a separate inflorescence

indicia of difference sometimes jar
but still we seek each other for support
on journeys that will lead us very far

we will orate we'll let ourselves exhort
to greater effort to remain distinct
and in so doing sell ourselves quite short

the nature that we claim contains no tinct
to mark us off into a host of kinds
our skins can all in the same way be pinked

they're no more than differently-coloured rinds
but what's inside is that which we all share
hearts calling out to hearts and minds to minds

the races we compete in are not fair
but victory's not as futile as it seems
we all breathe in and out the common air

the signals that we see appear in dreams
tell us that we know something of ourselves
the makers and consumers of all memes

a pretty day

testing sentiments

the calendar of feeling
announces winter

deeper the blue sky
unready to give us the
blessing of snowfall

identity or else

whose world was broken when the day began
the idea would have seemed almost insane
the concept's clear a man is just a man
and what else matters is within the brain
but fear drives many to distrust the strange
and what is stranger than the almost like
humanity lacks it seems to us the range
to wander far or back laden there to hike
what appears to happen mystifies the wise
a sort of answer provided for the nonce
the limitations of light-bedazzled eyes
when a new candle's set into the sconce
a fear of oafs rivals the fear of foes
our guardian stands up ready on his toes

a moment of pause

a cat came on my porch and sat a while
it sniffed around investigated things
i sat at my desk observing with a smile
my thought was travelling on its own wings
the sleek black creature made itself at home
surveyed us with its open golden eyes
i wondered where next it would roam
to give some other poet a nice surprise
in order to understand we analyse
but miss some things a naked eye would see
to do both things is what i would think wise
or like the feline to be sleekly free
the time will come for deeper thought and chat
till then i'll contemplate that noble cat

unseasonably frigid

 due to harsh winds and bitter bitter cold
we stay indoors and wait for warmer days
duty or need will drive those who are bold
to travel along those harsh and frozen ways
it is not usual for this place or time
the wind's come down to us from the far north
such weather seems to be a very crime
and makes it hard for each to venture forth
yet it was not that many days ago
that it was sweltering in my workplace
the response to that complaint was slow
and pain seemed written into every face
the night is hard but we are at our ease
outside the very air seems apt to freeze