Sunday, November 23, 2014
Snowstorm by Maurice de Vlaminck
Lying there under the felt like poncho
Like a sleeping river beneath the ice;
Moving slightly with nano speed ideas.
Renewing, restoring his energy stores,
Oblivious to the dreary cold outside,
snuggled under his coverlet igloo.
Entertaining thoughts of uncommon places,
Like a hermit, content in his aloneness;
A participant in the current flow
Carrying him to places known and unknown
Draining memory's vault; painted, profuse,
Of worlds not yet appearing above.
All this in the brief summer of his day.
© November, 2014; rel