Winter Wonderland ?

Aromatic herbs muster their musk,

diffuse their quintessence

especially at dusk. I enfold their luster

claim their colors. Turquoise

gold, green and rust.

Inhale. The world enters my nares.

Impelled, incited to seize

their ephemeral bouquets,

to regain my equilibrium and please

my innermost personal guru,

I breathe deep of their essence:

ignore their approaching

inevitable senescence.

Winter enters looks askance

balances and informs,

invites us to dance. Is she

A golum, or a wizardess perchance?

Only she knows:

winter wonderland of snow,

or simply the quiet

whisper of oblivion.

Selected Writings: