I am soothed by
biting winds, sheets of ice
killing frost and
tranquil, stagnant cold.

Nature reveals
the inward winter of
my soul
is transient as

the changing seasons.
the rolling tides.
the waning moon.
the setting sun.

image credit.

On Anxiety


have you ever been the one
to cry over spilt milk?
I do daily,
tears falling as the
white liquid covers
marble counter tops, hardwood floors
never causing trouble
besides a damp spot and
a subtle smell.
except, to me
it is
red, thick.
an excessive amount of
staining everything
leaving a trail wherever
it has
ever been.
so bright, so obvious
it is
all I can think about
how difficult to clean.
how haunting.
how painful.
how life threatening.

image credit.