Winter Poem

Walk slow, of purpose, with majesty
(A fallen king may do no more)
And aim each boot, it's crushing blow,
To weather and conquer the passing storm.

In smallest steps, fear not the lights
Of rebel cars who downward roll,
Limpingly with sideways glance,
Diverted by frozen distractions
(the ensuing loss of traction)

Walk slow, of purpose, with majesty
Take glee in the crystalline crunch,
Which chuckles under each footfall
And most of all, strive to remember:

The whole world holds it's breath and shuffles
On such a night, frozen in November.

1998