Thought Wheel

From the mind of Ann Chiappetta

New Poem

| Filed under Poem

Quiet Fall

After the Accumulation
Crack open the window
Admit the illicit cold
Like a secret lover who
Slips in over the sill

Savor The taste of cold skies
Tooth aching

The brace of damp musk
Burns nostrils like arctic smoke

An ear bent to the opening
Hears chilled perfection
the sound, ice on ice
Sweeps the ground, unreplicable

Brigid’s passionate lips
entice the glass

I close the window
End our embrace
covet the maelstrom from afar

leave the cold fire to
reclaim the world with possessivness born
of Nature and frigid Lore.

2010

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