In purgatory silence
A fool in the snow
Can’t see where to go.
Toward Patience
or Time
or Remember When?
At His cross-roads,
the way so
Glacier slow.
Northern: Drifts of Doubt
Southern: Endless Drought
Eastern: Fields of Pride
Western: Wasted Time
All Kodak-scattered,
Shattered,
Under the tundra of
Yesterday’s Blunder.
Chilly smiles deliver warmth
Perhaps mistaken
Before history morphed.
Spring will come, but for now,
The Dunce, in flake-strewn air
waves crispy gloves to see
a route towards Wherever.
Just, Free.
Watching iPhone-boy,
on your distant side-street in quiet
Don’t Care,
shift the cozy curtain there,
Toss a gesture.
Where.
Just point for Him in falling snow.
Diabolically smart,
You must know ...
Give it over.
Get it over.
Finally,
and be Done.
Just tell the
blinded
fool to
Run.
©