Crocus, then

If we grant winter steal our bare shoulders
Shutter our hearts, deny our eyes open windows
Who then, of what mettle, would we be?

If not sun-filled and and mocking the chill
I should prefer my soul exiled
Some dark side of a most unearthly moon

Electric Still

I slid into the city from the valley and

Saw then felt the flash of who I am

Now and 

All those years ago

I am electric and

I make mountains offer dares

They hope I’ll accept 

But don’t believe I will

Unknowingly I do and 

I did

It rained warm on me there

I smelled ozone and

Stared at the tallest peak hoping

For one more dare

I left with my eyes down

Electric still

Then looking East