de sneeuw is nu hier

we had celebrated the springtime and looked to the sun

only a few days before this,

before today, when the world turned white again.

the world is white

and i am wet with whiteness.

and i am hoping to awaken

in the morning

feeling green

and thoughtful

instead of still

and white.

i think i will spend tomorrow

searching for the lapwing egg,

searching for something i can trade

with Meneer Winter,

an exchange for something warmer.

lapwing. spring.

spring. lapwing.

het Glujende peerd

a thunderstorm today.

wide & weighted clouds

that let out a terrible yawn

and a blink

before emptying their souls on the street

and galloping on.

the sky is low & grey of late.

i am thinking of ways to climb it.

i dreamt of kolderveen last night.

i don't know what was real

(i never know what is real these days)

i only know that i spent the dream-there

searching for something.

i remember watching carefully

a bird that was balanced on a branch

so very delicately.

i remember how the branch bent and bounced

under the bird-weight

and how everything

had just been rained on.

things were mostly damp

and i remember that my shoes got soggy

from a puddle

that i hadn't noticed

until i was within it.

beginnings {begin}

i am in-between things.

or me i'm in-between?

i've settled, a bit,

before the take-off,

the take-up,

the take-down,

that will occur in a matter of weeks:

one month and may.

 

i am in-between things,

caught after the snow, before the sun

after the sun, but before the green,

somewhere between sadness & survival

is life's sweet slight-of-hand.

i am during during during

in-during,

enduring.

i am in-between things.

i am half here,

and half there,

and both halves sit in the sky above them,

watching the wheres and whens

that assemble themselves into

one self

with many

in-between it.