Maand: december 2025

Winter Song

 Again, the cold November wind had swept its 

little specks of brown and orange to us 

heralding winter’s icy grid, turning green of tree and bush 

back to autumn shade, sending all that summer blossom 

in our heart had stirred back into the drafty spaces 

 of the house we had presumed abandoned for good. 

Still numbed by warmth of days that seemed eternal 

we breathed the air – already carrying next season’s seeds –  

and danced to the rhythm that summoned us back home 

throwing off the burden of a harvest that started last spring. 

Postpartum

Now take for instance some drawers, empty them 

And fill them up again with useless matter, promise them 

Utility, and to love them with whatever forgotten intention 

Will strike you again accidentally, 

And forget everything once more – that is everything that paralyzes, 

Switches on and off like sound, quickly or slowly 

Dies away – forget this.  

Revisit the spaces in your house, 

Look into the nooks as you bend over dreaming. 

 

Let the solitary eye run its cool course again.