It's all part of the surroundings,
as though to live, here was never known
to people scampering about, caught in
the draft of shiver - flakes fall as cars
peal over white, stomachs turn to
close in on headlights.
Scared even of the walk, the stone -
paving as it goes a painterly chalk,
remembers the next day to never thaw
the neighbors, as they rely on the
local furnace, heat that melts - but
Enough of bread, milk, wafers thin
in the distance - all the same to space -
invading with cold? No, but a vortex of
sorts entertains our brains with a spelling
so quaint it reminds us of gingerbread.
And to make use welcome, neighbors do
oblige with whirling, spraying gusts of man made
stuff we never thought could fly - to us, our cars -
a new blanket. There was warning of impending
doom, of rice krispies that won't thaw -
or be eaten.
© 2014 Larry Ingram
Welcome to the poetry web site of Larry Ingram. Larry is a poet, writer and observer of our culture.