A Cold Front in the air...

The poem speaks for itself. It is a writing that comes more from feeling that any concrete labeling or event. It is a paysage moralize poem and I share it with you;


A Cold Front Forecasted

A cold front should arrive,
as the individual fronts his demise
his cold reception--his not providing
enough for her.
In the post-Emerson world of
self-reliance. Thoreau I dreamt on Walden
Pond and in delight.
We still depend upon the rain,
upon the snow. Upon the sun– nature–
To comply and to feed our furtile ground.
Feeling sun unleashed, like ocean waves
That pound and thrash upon the shore,
The wind that moves the grand cypress trees.
And the sleet sheets that sprawl silent
and fall and can destroy all things...
Why? Why? Why? Does the postman
carry his chosen chores though all of this....
Obligation to his given demise.