The Cabin
Come with me
to mountain highs
where snow cover
blankets the world
in white
and curl up with me
before a roaring fire
on a couch
in a warm
mountain cabin
and I’ll tangle limbs
with yours
and we’ll while away
the hours
just you and I together
I Need You
I want to dive
into frigid waters
salted to not freeze
as surface ripples
reflect the sky.
I want to see
clouds drift by
from
beneath the waves
and watch snowflakes
touch down
to join me
as they melt
into the sea.
Stumbling Blocks
Disappointment
carries weight
even when
long prepared
knowledge
of it coming
is given
Don’t shrug it off
for frustration
follows
if you let
that weight
slide away
too soon
The Thief Arrives
Snow flies
as curious eyes
come to see
what is new
with you
a little hop
makes snow drop
as the brave thief
watches on
don’t turn your back
don’t look away
or you might find
your treasures
gone astray
Prompt: Draw (at least) three cards. Use them to tell us about a (real or fictional) winter night in the city.
Walking in this old, worn neighborhood at night takes a certain amount of projected authority (The Emperor) to keep from being accosted… and a certain amount of disregard for one’s safety (The Lovers Rx) because it might just happen anyway.
What was once a lush and thriving beauty is now a crumbling shell of what once was (imagery for The World) as corruption took over to eat away at its core as crimes are committed and remain unsolved either through disinterest… or willful ignorance (Justice).
Sadly, there is no coming back from what it has become. In this neighborhood, there is no recovery to be had, for it goes beyond the cracked sidewalks and grime… the poison has gone root deep. Too much blood, and violence, and too many deaths. (The Tower)
And yet even in this place I see beauty (The Magician), for it is in the strength of those that live here (Strength) if for no other reason than they can’t afford to live anywhere else. I see it in their eyes as I pass them on the street while they avoid the darker shadows and hurry home, their heads down but the inner spark that lives within them shining with a hope that they can lift themselves and their children up to rise to something better (The Star).
The Call Home
I long for a path
through
shrouded woods
where creaking
branches
greet
barely audible
tread
of boots
on pristine white
and all paths
look the same
and yet
I am never
lost
Twisting the Leaf 