In the old foundry

dark as night a liquid flows

towards him white, red

An old brick building

majestic still it stands proud

here they once baked bread

Through a fence a dog

looks on while a flock of geese

accept the field’s gifts

So much more to life

than filling forms, passing thought

solidifying

At each break I write

a tiny poem to make

a moment of calm

Head under a wing

a bird sleeps whilst snow-melt drips

he wakes with a song

Silently falling

Disturbing nothing at all

Snow covers our world

I wake and know by

the absence of sound and soft

light, it is snowing

checking the wiring

touching everything, no mask.

this is how death calls

February seems

the coldest month; now winter

chases after spring