Winter

Like an old man slowly slipping from a flowered grave
Winter comes
And the city draws her curtains.
Remnants of the land of summer hide in a snowy rug
Flowers, the jack knife lost by Johnny,
And
Over by the lake some forgotten swimsuit.
The city, once divided into regions of color
Is brought together in a spatial sameness
Until up and down, east and west, have no meaning.
The city creature yawns then goes into her deep sleep.

"Giant train ride. One mile. Closed for winter"
"Best cones in town. Open next spring"

Somewhere high above your mind
The treetops are lost in a swirling white world.
Soon the city creature will stretch,
inhale the great heat of summer,
And melt into puddles of memory