Silver on the pine boughs
Where the moon surrenders
Willingly,
And silver hairs
To mark the turn of years
While they eclipse.
I buy them and I sell them back
For stillnesses and silhouettes
And artificial elsewhere
In the distance to dismiss.

Silver in my pocket
Making claim for what to overlook,
And silver exhalations
From the images I’ll burn.

The smoke, it renders beautiful
The simple days I’d liquidate
In silver strips the profits
Of the embers as they turn.

#Seward #Alaska

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s