The Winter It Didn't Snow

The winter it didn't snow,

I lost two pairs of slippers.

I stood in steaming showers.

I left the blinds broke-open after dark.

The winter it didn't snow,

I peeled and crunched on carrots.

I trailed a hawk out hunting.

I practiced yoga, cat and cowed, pigeon-toed.

The winter it didn't snow,

I met the sunrise, sunset.

I listened to those engines.

I tended potted plants with faith and fuss. 

The winter it didn't snow,

I scribbled a.m. hope notes.

I remembered California.

I found myself entranced again with techno.

The winter it didn't snow,

I held my love like hunger.

I warmed my feet along him.

I dreamt of us as children, us as grey.

The winter it didn’t snow,

I touched the fine lines forming.

I finally took my vitamins.

I tried to hush my mind, to let it slow.

The winter it didn't snow,

I wanted truth. But vastness.

I wanted peace. But Future.

I sought simplicity, the cool white sky.

The winter it didn't snow,

I waited for that foot fall.

I waited for that banner.

But as each month passed on, it whispered, No.

So, the winter it didn't snow,

I curled my breath each morning.

I studied frost like scripture.

I waved, Hello Moon, my dear shy friend.

The winter it didn't snow,

I made promises on car rides.

I laughed into my muscle aches.

I failed. I cried out. And I tried again.