green by green

It’s not so much the season but

these shadows of the past, stark 

negatives to stare at the moment to.

The picture perfect abstract always 

uneasy on the skin, a wind at once

too cold and too familiar, tomorrow

spilling down the stairs. So

the days beckon, so the days warn,

corridors to stumble down hinting 

at the unseen, a shadow heavy

cast from a dream forewarning. 

One like the next, but next all

the same, this measure of 

root and reach. Winter giving way

green by green, it’s touch

abrupt and heavy in this flesh.