Mind Stipple

Reminiscence 

Is one of my mind's 

Most desultory pastimes. 

I have my head bent below 

A tenebrous sky. 

When I raise my brow

To the elusive scent of 

A glowing cedar log,

I smell the wood 

Flicking off ruddy embers

And blending with the 

Frore air around me. 

I dare not alter 

My shallow breath, 

Or even exaggerate an 

Exhale, lest I hasten 

The egression 

Of this memory. 

Yet still it ebbs away, 

Like clammy snow on 

Gravel disappears 

'Neath a febrile sun. 

Cruel cognizance! 

Your languid sedulity 

Seems at most hypocritical. 

To call the cadence of 

Sleigh bells to mind 

In the haze of summer; 

To distract an exacting task 

With a glancing reflection 

Of fervid lips. 

Say, sweet torture!

My balking suspires

May dislike pronounce, 

Yet clandestinely 

I favor 'tall to 

Predictable fatigue.