Winter Wedding

Lace draped like a cloth

cut from the clouds

on upturned roots

which lined the roads.

Crystals of symmetry,

like linen sleeves

slip down the arms

of sleeping trees.

A canopy formed,

a wedding veil

suspended on the wind.

I heard Pachelbel’s canon

as I stood in the aisle.

>Springing From a White Out Dream


White out has covered

the sleds left out,
the junk pile behind the fence,
the fire pit,
the holes dug by the dog,
the I.E.D.’s (insensitive excrement drops) by said dog.
the trampoline,

the picnic table,

the dormant garden.

Does this mean I can declare a do-over?

When it melts will
clandestine errors be erased?
When comes the spring will
a rolling hill support Julie Andrews
and her guitar?
When the shaving cream is scraped will
Arnold Palmer claim our
greens as his own?
When spring flowers rise
will Martha Stewart
pull out of K-mart?
When the snow angels
fly back to their perches
will I look upon an English
garden which will inspire
poetic trances?
When a foot of snow
shrinks down to a bootie
and beyond will
I sway in hammock

nodding off slightly

above pristine nuances
of botanical gardens?
The white blanket lays
like a dream
a dream that
I have of my back yard.