Those of you who know how I feel about winter will get a little more out of this poem. It is one of my favorites partially because of the sentiment, and it's mythical root, but I was also proud of the form of it, the count down. I think I wrote this one in '97.

Persephone?

6 Pomegranate seeds,
6 dark months.
I sleep and draw and rehearse my lines,
and wait,
like children in the sno-kone line,
for spring.

The sheets stay still -
I like them that way - and clean.
They smell like the sun and rain
and I dream these things,
lost, happy on the sea of sleep.

Some days I wake
wanting stillness
and breakfast.
This winter diet works.

I want sun,
warm water,
and good sense...

Wisdom,
heaven,

barbecue.