where the writers are

The long silence suddenly burst

in rising bubbles of laughter,

a face in the crowd

  like a gold wrapped gift

 bearing my name

pealed open the plain brown

parceled air

in rainbow spun ribbon.


Was it in another lifetime

that you once a stranger

 held all my secrets

like the soft weave

of an old familiar coat,

dusted with

a sunflower scent

that has ever since infused me

against the icy smiles

and clinking blue glares,

of all the growling bears

roaming their sidewalk

polar habitats.


You who have always been

a warmer nearer light

than the fickle gold

that seasonal favor

of the far-arcing

winter sun.