Blizzard
Not much dancing
done in a blizzard.
Blinding snow cuts
through warm joy
biting cold gnaws
otherwise nimble limbs
halts hiking of legs
that couldn’t walk frozen trails.
No neighborhood crunch of feet
snapping of naked fingers
to the absent city beat,
the nothingness sound of white
staccato of wind howling
then wheezing
lost in bronchial trees
of antisocial ice.
Early Tulips
The tulips brought a smile
to the garden-variety landscape.
Their tall reed-like stems
dance a little samba in the front yard,
confined to terra cotta
but swaying anyway,
to high desert wind
in primitive recurrent rhythm.
Mixed colors, yes,
but all stemming from red
scarlet unabashed love
purple contained passion
orange sunsets comfort
a garden of enchantment.
Your boyish grin.
Your earth-shadowed eyes.
Protective fingers laced through mine.
We await the summer flowers,
ripe fullness, maturity,
but enjoying the smiles
the early tulips bring
following cold winter.
Flight of the dragonfly 