The Ice Storm That May Kill Me

I write to get through the bad times. I write to get through the good times. I believe I will live through this.


Bold am I in these close days nearer to fire than safety
_with blankets and canines and the embrace of love to
__capture fleeting moments spent seemingly out of time
When we walk in these flashes of shuttered house fronts
_with our cloaks and coats pulled tight under chins and
__hands in pockets and scarves creating tiny slits to see
___we closer know the grace of a warm home and joys in
___the light eyes of those happy to see us come again
It is with a certain daring that I hold the lady tight
_and peek around reality to know a bit of the future
It is then the most important to remember that
_I have forgotten more than I can know in these close days -
__The turn of hand around the ring
___The simple scents and sounds of Spring
I can’t recall the notes these choirs sing
Sure am I of such few things
_but not in all my days have I felt this
These are the instant breaths and quickness of
_expectations that
__lead to beliefs in fates and signs of things to come
Here is the speedy heartbeat to hurry the state of mind
_that sees our moment in the sunshine when all others
__should have their cameras in hand
I feel that instant in time when if I should take another step
_it will be Fall that follows Winter for the first time ever
And where there are no leaves now upon the tree
_suddenly an explosion of earthly colors are before me
There are shades, too, of heavenly occupants where you
_swear there is a circle of light surrounding the morning
I, who have always feared angels, welcome them now
_in this future seen by holding the hand of certainty
__in this quickness of expectations
___where my breath comes fast with second sight
I honestly believe I may live through this ice storm
_to see a vision take real form and know that it
__wasn’t just a dream
_________________________________FRS