The Last Waltz Of Winter Poem by Kevin Patrick

Still wrapping myself in a carapace of wool
since springs still vacationing in Florida
and the earths still sculpted with seasonal marble
clinging to my boots with adhesive devotion.
Yet through the razor breezes I barely grumble
walking three inches deep of this arctic exhibition
Through wide open fields with wispy milk dunes
billow grains over anchored white seascapes
Over fleeting lines like the the trails of ghosts
Leaving echoes of waves or mouths of crevices
Until dancing gypsy winds change their course
and the earth is made and remade again
While over the hill on the long winding road
shrubs and trees proudly bare their nudity
each branch fused in glistening saps of glass
shimmering in webs of imprisoned light
like cathedrals of crystallized carbon
sings in the towers of transitory diamonds
and for a moment i witness this orchestra
Until the beating gallery of the sun
Melts winters last Waltz