Day 17

old river, old mirror tell me please
is this the old man you thought I’d be?

the dark horizon across illuminated
by a single strand of light

by your depiction the bridge, in pieces
a dream of metal lilly pads, headlights hop

have you drawn me out yet
the years running backwards in cross currents

in how many years will I return again
as a new born river monster

all memory
and gills

Day 18

rapt and content, even when circumstance
sends us out; yesterday’s rain

cleared some of ice and snow, and what’s left
is marked and polluted

that bite in the afternoon wind, a warning
but we find ourselves

cozy
nonplussed

Day 19

such a blowy snow
the globe

must be
busted