These desolate days
of wasted space when
time becomes
the movement of water —

droplets raining
from unfrozen snow
lounging on the roof.

Tree branches leap
from frigid cover —
undulating from confines
to seek the sharp winter

sun. Beacon of time
that shines crystal clear
on this day as meaningless
as the thousand days before.

Originally appeared in CCEQ, Winter 2001 issue.