
winter’s an old man, they say
with pale, flaky skin
silver patches in his hair
and stubble on his chin
i look at winter’s attributes
and realize it’s true–
i know the signs of getting old
because i have them too
–photo by me

winter’s an old man, they say
with pale, flaky skin
silver patches in his hair
and stubble on his chin
i look at winter’s attributes
and realize it’s true–
i know the signs of getting old
because i have them too
–photo by me

the weak, winter sun
is easily imprisoned
behind bars of ice
–photo by me

our once-proud eagle
is looking rather ragged–
with a torn right wing
–photo by me

i gaze at the stars and wonder
what strange tales are being told
around those distant campfires.
do they look up at our twinkling star
and spin exotic stories about us?
perhaps we each see the other
as something unknowable, a part
of the mystery of the heavens–
and there’s peace of mind in that.
–photo by me

i’m walking
down a lonely shore
the trees are
rimed with frost
it somehow makes me feel sad
and a little lost
–photo by me

when great sheets of ice are conveyed
to the shore with the wind as an aid,
they shatter like glass
and the shards soon amass–
and that’s how ice mountains are made
–photo by me

when i was a young boy,
it was the ancient face
that cows jumped over;
when i was a young man,
it became my chaperone
and followed me on dates;
and now that i’m old,
it’s the pocked and ruddy
face of an adolescent–
by these observations,
i can only surmise
that when i die,
the moon will be born
–photo by me (double exposure)

Inside my head
B-movies stream
With pointless plots
And senseless themes
For nothing here
Is as it seems–
I love the world
Of dreams
–Photo/art by me

the winter woodlands
coax me into the chaos
of their crystal webs
–photo by me

When I just can’t seem to put any words together on the page, I’ll put something else together on it, like this birch bark pick-up truck. It keeps the creative juices flowing through the dreaded writer’s block, and when the dam finally breaks, I’m ready to go.
Of course, good photos are the best inspiration for me, but this time of year it’s hard to get out in the woods, and now that we finally have an appreciable amount of snow, the options grow thin. Maybe I’ll go look for more birch bark.
–Photo by me