Preparing to go on a journey is sometimes active work. Studying maps. Learning from others who have gone a similar way. Deciding what to take and what to leave behind.
Preparing to go on a journey is sometimes passive work. Watching for the right time to set out. Waiting for the first step to show itself.
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Snow burns
when slivers dart
into the open, indifferent
as cauterized wounds
on epic
mounds filling prints whose
species
have vanished.
Late, its fall
serves forgetfulness
as a blessing, allowing silence
to start over
without
having to apologize for
stains
on the vast drifts.
[Disposable Poem January 9, 2011]
Dr. Mike
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