An Old Man’s Infection
And just when you believe your bones are too cold for winter
there is fire on the mountain, infecting
About this poem.
A shortling that started as multiple stanzas. I was taught, when I was learning my craft, that I had a tendency to wordiness. I took that to heart and seem to chop a lot of my epic poems into short whispers that say the same thing, hopefully better
About sunsets in winter, finding love in old age, second chances in life. Poetry is rarely about one thing.
The picture was taken down the road from me in West Pawlet, VT.