poems

What a privilege it is
to be gone
to be back
and be somewhere new in each

Returning from an icy kingdom
where a piece of my mind was left behind
part of me stays there captive in its beauty
in the snowy crust, in the green pooled gardens,
in the dense cold blue glow
Part of me stays above it
within the colors in the sky
often soft in shades of blue, orange, pink
that transition from one to the other in
gentle, indistinguishable fronts
Yet more often in a cast of white or gray
in a brightness enhanced by the white surface below
Imagine that, light amplified above and below,
from sun to cloud to ice to cloud to then be absorbed by my eyes
but perhaps to ice had my eyes not been here
It is true, my being here changes this place
and it changes me in turn