Susan Sonnen


I surely have shed tears equal to the number of snowdrops on my window.

moonlight on snow    cats prowling in my living room


an autumn leaf that I want to pick up from the ground
but it wants to remain

chilled Sabbath
there is atonement
in the fire

enter the cold

thinned veil
cooling Earth
delay the thaw
with Winter’s mirth

a new crack in my heart
I heat gold to fill it


Too much is said
In so many pauses.

the tip of the iceberg is pain enough

The Artist

He looks at the canvas with love
And at me with scrutiny.

nodding off

against my will,
my eyelids droop
and my mind wanders
to the Land of Nod
from whence no work comes


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