Established 1999
In the wild open west, flakes keep falling
Like myriad baby angels knocked down from Paradise
Blurring the landscape behind the vision
Hunting each consonant trying to rise above
The ground. The day is brighter, lighter &
Softer than the feel. Soon there will be
Dirty prints leading to everywhere (or nowhere)
& no one will care how the whole world will collapse
In blasphemy. The missing cat won’t come to
Trespass the lawn, nor will the daffodil bloom
To catch a flake drifting astray. Nobody bothers even to think
About where the season is held up on its way back, how
The fishes are agitating under the pressure of wintry
Water, why people wish to see more and more snow