I have the day to work on my poetry collection, but love the feeling of writing and completing a fresh new poem. A new poem, likened to how the new snow is released from the heavens... snow cascades and spirals through the sky... lightly touches the ground, this flat land, i call home. breathing in the the kinesthetic vibe of effortlessness, as I clear my cerebral slate allowing the words of angels, trees, ceramic teapots, edges of treeless branches stroking the grey white sky... presently filling with the softest wisps of snow- falling mostly down, with some flakes pushed in gusts on the horizontal plane snow flakes gather at the base of trees, form lines on blacktop parking lot, coat cars, fences, bushes- with a palpable cold magic. in genuine effortlessness, snow as object, and as verb, in the act of snowing... brings uncompromised joy-- lighting children's faces and illuminating eyes of artists- who, without pressure, asks kindly and most hum...
