Year of the Dragon: 33 degrees

splash! fills the space
between hiss and crack -

hiking hurricane creek, chinese new year

feeding time

hoof to ice, hoof to ice, hoof to ice
a bale of good hay, the goal
but let’s be watchful

tasting preserves

it’s last summer’s sweet jam.
the jar is officially half empty.
if you’re wondering – over there
is the evidence of guilty pleasures.

item: one slathered spoon; item: a
slash of red; item: cheap bakery
bread.  to one side: soggy black
tea bags; steam rising from
an old stained cup with one chip.

close your eyes. taste a raspberry
sun. stand perfectly still by the
clouded window, watch sparrows
quarrel over heel-end crumbs.

with luck and illiberality, they claim
spring will come back around again,
on the very day you scrape
the last sticky bite from the jar.

another odd winter

another twisted jet stream -
unmatched mountains of snow
in Anchorage - its
snowy owls far afield.

not seen in the usual place

by any other name
fierce and focused
grips life's end; begins

be it resolved

Make a statement: “This is the year I’ll...”
(insert fear here) - Then take a hammer 
to it, or just add wings, or walk away
muttering, “Maybe next time…” Scratch
that! To be or not to be brave and
fearless and sweet and bold (pick
any two) is a very good question indeed.
Meanwhile, you get to make up your
own mind. Will you heal what needs
healing, fight what needs fought, advise
what needs wisdom, learn what you
really, really want, and above all be -
(wise, for choice; joyful if lucky).

happy new year. 
they say the days
are already longer.  
raise your sweet 
cider - but keep your
lemons by. you may yet 
need ammunition.