my_window_seat | (no subject)

Huh. Something from my old journal over at Diaryland.

2003-12-25 - 2:38 a.m.

Snow

What am I under you
but canvas
fallen without experience
or stain

Particles and jointed arms
bundled into playthings or missiles
or a child's sculpture

Reflecting heat yet
present only so long as rarefied
temperatures permit

Contoured by wind
that scars edges
as it softens every line

Pressed beneath your weight
you spread me with your arms
and leave your imprint

An angel
earthbound
eyes full of home