a storm in the east

ghosts of memories retreat

a drawing of breath

wind and rain and snow

and still those geraniums

flush pink with pleasure

lurking, foreboding

sits on the periphery

waiting for first light

amidst the raindrops

flat white flakes like lint or ash

tumbling around us

seasons of Thi-Wurd

voice, character, style and tone

writing and sharing

last summer’s flowers

still blooming in pots outside

tossed in winter storms

a bird is singing

its voice as clear as a flute

are the clouds clearing?

stretched across my bed

nose over one side, back paws

the other, dreich day

at the confluence

setting a new direction

on roiling waters