Demons & Snow
"Skyward soar the whirling demons
Shrouded by the falling snow."
Walking as the shadows fill in and night comes with mist.
The snow has left today and the sky is mottled with
dark grey and clouds sag.
Heavy against the darkness.
Feet are moving in a set pattern and they are filled with
hesitation and delay.
The afternoon was full of children's laughter and
their tears and now as only the night is
Silence is at peace with this time as feet move
up the path and back
inside the door of home.
" Winds have risen. They have
pierced up like a spear."
Rumann mac Colmain
The beach is broken. Bits of twigs. Large trunks.
For storms have lived here, awhile.
They came with conquering bands of winds, rain
and snow, that moved along the lined edges.
Taking branches and small shrubs to an early grave.
Now, a battlefield forgotten, all have moved away.
The quiet is bring back gulls. their search between the
seaweed and the shore, for dead crabs and small fish.
The morning was cold. Brought smitten fog with
rain. Following, like an old dog, with silver tail.
That has dropped some snow, between the hollows,
of newly cropped logs. Corpses. In frost's early light.
" Like a sheet of cellophane
or a sky of alcohol"
Waking up, with a hangover on a Saturday.
Having to build a fence when we were living
Snow flakes in the head
frozen flesh of the pickled dead.
Warm up the hands and get coffee in the heart
One section at a time. Only do two , a weekend.
So the booze could flow through the veins
after twelve noon.
The numbness of getting through the day
would slow down. The dreams
like those as a child, coming back
with each bang of the hammer, each nail
in the coffin , of the morning.
dn simmers is an on line editor with Fine Lines. He has been published in the USA, Canada and Europe.