Winter and Wind.

For winter days.

Razor sharp wind,
causes a clarity
flooded mind.

Biting air induces,
pleasurable cellophane
wrapped lips.

A crack in the wrap,
a crevasse in smirking lips,
a product leaks.

The cold brings
clear energy with reason.

Legs pump against,
what might be clouds,
but more likely concrete.

Dreams pass in and out
of realization.

Thoughts condense,
in the upper reaches
of conscience.

A slight stumble
and gain of apathy.

A collapse on the afore clouds
--they were concrete,
discovered with contact
against raw skin.

A slumber in a freezing,
muted,
dream.


Heres the second.

Harmonic of the wind.
A chrous of orchestrated breeze;
simultaneously soft and strong.
Melodic rhythm of the sky,
the fields,
the forest,
the home
and the hearth.
Just a ripple skimming a lake.
A tornado tearing the world in two.
Who composes the continuous music of the sky?