winterland

and so winter begins on this 

plain snow brushing across yard through 

trees harried by the 

wind 

    incessant 

        unrelenting 

            without mercy 

and slowly the mounds and drifts 

grow to make a white world wasteland 

called mid-November

11/21

snow is becoming

there in the cold clouds above

November’s cruel gift

wet day

jazz drizzles October grass 

with cool melody 

an improvisation of finger snaps 

making puddles here and there 

dry ground sponge 

listening to brushes on ride cymbal 

in this mist 

mister Davis’ perfect trumpet tone 

tells our sadness 

on wet fall day