Off and to the Side

The snow retreats from the trunks of the trees

Giving the illusion of Thaw

But it is the wind that forms it so

And the frozen air conspires

Against all in time and wood

There is nothing in the air tonight

Insects, water, the rough hem of your cough

Cold like this keeps me held tight to face

The sting of walking in the clear open

As large a space as you can perceive

Is somehow defined by the absence

Of little forms within it,

If little forms within it.

I have failed you, turning

Like the Earth, turning ever slowly

Away from warmth of its own

Energy in a vacuum

A number of rotations, directions

In air

I make movements like freedom in air

Disjointed and off and to the side

Out of the freezing wind

Where no snow will fall.

Donald W. Hayward