I'll come by this eventually,
as snow falls my way -
first as crystals, beauty,
but later as avalanche of good
for me, you say, but not
likely knowing - me.
It did come, I say, but not
as I prepared the venue -
the massive advertising budgeted
as it was in snowdrifts, scaring
visitors, windshields and such,
they mistook it for good will.
I meant it for pure greed.
It's not that they don't work -
this skiis, faking lightly, turns
prepared, but not as the day,
the sun peers out blinding me
to lust, to want, to water that
barely gets at it - guts.
So now it melts.
It told me of vast quantities,
inscribed for me, tales of tablets
like as never before discovered,
when skiers were unearthed to
reveal preparations for sun,
but not blinding speed.
Now it scares. Yes, it's there.
Still it mows down trees in it's
way, trees I planted, as I surveyed
my plans for good, for those
that shine, that blossom,
as beautiful as falling snow,
in sparkling moonlit nights.
© 2013 Larry Ingram
Welcome to the poetry web site of Larry Ingram. Larry is a poet, writer and observer of our culture.