why wind meshes with a brutal cold

1-

why wind meshes with a brutal
cold, impossible to hold it still
then on its merry way- vanishes
around the corner of a prayer

lending reprieve- for the time
it takes to sing one stanza
from the songs of solomon

icy green earth meets up
with sleepy blue sky
a kind of funeral dirge for those

flowers who could not survive
the hard forces of icy blue
sky air- the stringy hair
of a mythic norse character

she wears turquoise satin, and pearls
and makes her way through--
cloud bursts, a messy sleet,
her auburn hair holding up

the sky's deep chill--
sprinkling healing from the temporary
cloud formations--slicing the blue
sky air with a respite of time

2-

as we redirect our anger into
a more polite form of postcard writing
standing up as the mountain who
doesn't get destroyed by high winds

lets the slapping turn into a music
of flapping wings from snow geese

our children, and all who live
with challenges--to stand, lift up,
and fly above the white house

now a greying cadaverous dungeon
where truth shall not 
get away unheard

it's time to step up
to the plate my friends
and make our voices 
listened to- 

and to continue the fight 
with our daily bread,
and our incessant chanting--
deep into the night..

3-

when we act--we no longer stand
around pining-- we're shining,
and still do a defiance dance--
a bun-dance for all people!

if that is the way 
for the disassembling 
of the present
inedible meal

history on its head- 
the turn around (wear red!)
is you and me- taking time-
holding hands, and encircling

the demon is only apathy;
we're good, oh angels-
we're getting better

every day we stand, raise voices,
and act- for the children,
the birds, the bees, and the trees!

~words/photo~kate lamberg (c)'17