My Forecast

by John Grey Snow falls on snow.  And, in between,  I trudge.    Yes it’s beautiful  but it chills my bones.  It decorates.  It beautifies.  But my fingers freeze  despite my gloves.    I am on my way  to a place   that will offer me  radiance and discomfort  in equal abundance.    The weather forecaster   got… Continue reading My Forecast

The Small World

by John Grey It’s blanched white tunnels that tube-worms dig, swirling around in complex patterns like the trail of a child’s finger in cake frosting. Or the emerald gleam of glowworms. Or tiny scarlet and blue-jeweled crabs. The world offers small as much as it does large. A lizard stares up at me from beneath… Continue reading The Small World

To Sculpt The Stars

The barren plane, hushed and vast The arrow flies and must be passed The stage of contest, endless night The dark undone in curtains flight Threads of thought, like gold out-spun Threads of thought, to braid the sun To sculpt the stars, like wetted clay To hold the seasons, one must pay Coinage flowing—slick and red… Continue reading To Sculpt The Stars

Ysatters-Kasja

I Where sags the sun in its refrain To pour its gleam on glassy sea; Where lacteal pink in sky and deep Will merge upon the doubling main; Where plaited at the circlet fringe, Twin orbs will sear where one had sunk, A storm released one day in fury, Diffusing in its neutral hue Across… Continue reading Ysatters-Kasja