Mind Stipple
Reminiscence
Is one of my mind's
Most desultory pastimes.
I have my head bent below
A tenebrous sky.
When I raise my brow
To the elusive scent of
A glowing cedar log,
I smell the wood
Flicking off ruddy embers
And blending with the
Frore air around me.
I dare not alter
My shallow breath,
Or even exaggerate an
Exhale, lest I hasten
The egression
Of this memory.
Yet still it ebbs away,
Like clammy snow on
Gravel disappears
'Neath a febrile sun.
Cruel cognizance!
Your languid sedulity
Seems at most hypocritical.
To call the cadence of
Sleigh bells to mind
In the haze of summer;
To distract an exacting task
With a glancing reflection
Of fervid lips.
Say, sweet torture!
My balking suspires
May dislike pronounce,
Yet clandestinely
I favor 'tall to
Predictable fatigue.