immaculate black, symmetrical stars

between India, and Ireland, and Mesopotamia

cold metal, burnished of age, tired gold

frozen smooth and glazing the air

sliced orange, bleeding

onto brown below, weeds in bracken

flame as gas, pilot light for dawn

licks the burning edge of atmosphere

as dreams are the edge of consciousness

and justify our waking

birds in sweet alarm, auguring the day

as sun beats its wings

and thoughts fall from folios

like blossoms, flutter to the floor

in this month of snow and stirrings

that defines what will walk with us today

05/14/2004

Author's Note: [A work in progress, inspired by "February" by Chinese-American poet Bei Dao....]

Posted on 05/14/2004
Copyright © 2026 Bruce W Niedt