Time For Heavy Boots Poem by David Kowalczyk

For eight-foot snow drifts,
for jagged icicles the size
of mastodon tusks to
drag down gutters.


For gales to howl
through storm windows
and make even stately mansions
shake and shiver like Medea
giving birth.


Time to watch your life
unfold before your eyes
before opening the portal
leading from light and warmth
to a world of frozen terror
where comfort knows no welcome.


Time for Time
to be devoured by Medusa,
waiting in the mirror.


January, the month when all of
our parents always die.
January, time of Janus, the
dual-faced god simultaneously
embracing past and future.


January, time to create
the future by remembering
the past with a finer, more
focused vision.