Grey

water
struggles to freeze
clings to the carapaces
of black nylon cockroaches on two legs
furtive scurrying skulking
seeking cement bunkers

leaf
still green on the bough
clings to gnarled skin
of bony twig on quaking branch
shivering confounded chlorophyll
forgetting how to die

water
trembles in the creek
forced to march too quickly
on the rocks of the Wissahickon
breathy rasping croaking
longing to freeze solid

ferals
conceived in summer
huddled under scrap wood
remains of lost collapsed shelter
unaware their kindred
curl in warm clothes baskets

water
filthy gurgling queue
pools at the corner gutter
splashes daggers from thoughtless tires
drenching penetrating
bones longing for sun

Ciommuning With the Day

caressed by sheets
she senses satin yet unaware
that her skin, her fingers, the patina of the sculpture
she was born in
are the sensors
eyelashes like barometers
sense the lightness of the morning

a quick rub into the pillow
crosses the lamina of mighttime
opens her face to light sound air
muscles flex shoulders spread thighs extend

who am the I that receives this day
what do I long for before life blocks the way

Eyelash whiskers feelthe crisp air
Summer languor long squeezed out
Toes check for November chill
All senses say "This is a different day."
this is a late fall play day

her body calls impatiently to her soul
playmate is ready
choose my shoes shorts tops
celebrate the late fall sun with cutoffs
and too big too short sweat shirt
"Let me drink in the garden
Let me massage myself with the woodland sun"
every cell anxious to play
hooky today