Return Mute

Flurries back juncos in sudden cold. Scales watch us all. What I am doing here, warm winds in January?

Muddy trails, moon smudge clouds. Give it a big name and it has a hoof print! Order, later, attendant.

Tulips push frost yet stubborn. Sun’s declension still tucked to gather. Old deaths must return mute witnesses.

Promises raised up a temple of sun and air. Rough as anger uneasily cutting bread. Falls, turns, begins with pencil.

Whoever might come after? Truly empty-handed remains. Swam in low salt water out of rocky coves.

You want to win a fight but who is your adversary? No easy answer throws the white screen. Trim curls unfolding in soft flowers.

Later you learned you lingered in the sea. The movie is nearly over and you don’t have any answers.