Snow

Down it loosens from the sky
along the trees and city blocks,
trampled on by squeaking feet
from 6 o’clock to 6 o’clock.

It gets inside the downfall pipes
and open upward mouths and eyes;
dropping through uncertainties
on certain hats and city types,
whitening our blackened streets,
changing an indifferent world.

The snowman’s little smile is curled
because he knows he’ll never cling
to a billion crazy snowflakes, each,
uniquely fashioned - everything.

Daisy Cow

I had a moonlit dream
and asked myself if I’d be better
born a human - or a cow -
as if I could, like, choose my form:

to be honest I dunno
whether to become huge and simple, eat grass
24/7 - or bang on and on about the mortgage,
pension, kiddies, final blow.

All in all, today
I lean towards a munching low
and moo into my future,
knowing what’s of note;
a meadow, calves and parlors,
sun and quiet moon.