Saturday, January 18, 2014

I Think It's Saturday

Back Here in Siberolina

The more I sit
In a routine cold

The more a confusion creeps in

It snowed again
I don't know
It comes in waves

And then it's gone

A biting cold is the new routine
I sit
With three trapped cats
I think it's Saturday

I hear distant explosions
More than once

It will melt
It always does
Maybe on a Saturday

1 comment:

Lola said...

I like your poetry. It sure looks good. Not long till gardening in ernest will begin.