Hello: This is my first post in a while because I've been fighting physical ailments for more than the last two years. The two books I have started have been on LOW while I get ready to return to cooking them.
In the meantime, here is another poem I hope you will enjoy.
Patrick
Icy Sky
The sky is ice blue, mirroring the blue ice below.
It is framed by quiet white hills and sleeping black trees.
The wispy clouds are sparse and high and bloodless.
They move quickly through my view,
As if in a hurry to find warmer places.
I can sense it everywhere I feel.
My ears hear it as the caress of whispery wavelets.
It enters my nostrils and smells of energizing cold.
It strokes my eyes in the sweetness of shimmering light.
The breeze picks up my contentment and carries it to the
world.
I'm warming. I feel cozy.
I must go inside,
for I must be freezing to death.
