iii
As the pine’s whisper
and the geese fly overhead
just above the eves
of our aching old home
the thwap thwap thwapping of their wings
penetrates a certain chamber of my heart
and the tap tap tapping of the piliated woodpecker
on the old red pine
makes me think of Nature’s gentle jackhammer
mimicking a remote refrain
echoing in my eardrum
even the inaudible snowflakes
work in some silent euphony
v
the Northerly winds
blast our exposed faces
as we slide down toward little Norway
small glass beads of ice slap slap slapping our skin
there’s that rhythm repeated
sometimes a whisper
sometimes a drone
murmuring like my heartbeat
like something I own
the pressure to remember
urging me to persist
that’s it
the winds purr
‘persevere persevere persevere’
amidst
yet another
April snowstorm
Creation makes Her persuasive argument
to
continue and carry on
letters to the world 