The path through the snowy park had been manicured
by a front-end loader that imprinted precise cloven tracks
woven like celtic knots on the edges of an antique bracelet.
Periodically the driver had veered to dump the bucket
left false trails to trap the unwary in the crystalline silence
of sketchy trees planted isolate by quick perfect strokes.
in passing
the guy scraping his windshield
sent raspy blasts of ice drops
popping into the crisp cold air
Damn shame I didn’t go with my buddy:
he left for sunny Florida two days ago
He didn’t use the colon on purpose
I suppose it was just there cackling
silent as my despair that he couldn’t
see the wonder in fresh snow painting
a new world each day
instead he wanted to sweat in the sameness
of dusty palmettos and cracked pastel
stucco I’ve been there interminably
for a stultifying two days fanning my face
those chards of ice are discarded diamonds
cast down by the blind in paradise
[podcast]http://riverwriter.ca/podcast/in_passing.mp3[/podcast]