Friday, February 28, 2014

Friday Original Poem

Chicago in late February,
The town still dimmed with snow
Unrelenting weight of black-tinged ice
And endless potholes missing bottoms

Sidewalks twisted into new slick paths
Blueish knuckles roughened and swollen
In the crust-dry radiator heat
And grey runnels of earth somewhere underneath it all

Above, a wisp of blue shines through blades of cloud
And Rina demands, "What is that?"
Scattered reflections and remembrances
Of a city still bandaged by winter


  1. I feel your winter pains! I am ready for spring! Nice work, J.

    1. We both get to fly away from the Midwest soon!

  2. Sounds a bit like Cincinnati's winter. Dreaming of daffodils & tulips & warmth.

  3. As much as I enjoyed this poem and feel like you captured February, I'm waiting for poems about spring.