Under My Blankets

Blanket to my chin

Arms tucked underneath

I resist motion

Thinking of the fresh snow

Memories of Metal Shop 

Sitting

Tall stool 

Metsl tsble 

Vice gripping 

My victim 

Bending 

Shaving

Scraping

Demanding 

It fit into 

My will.

Resistance

Solid

We find

Detente,

This soul

Longing

For the

Trees 

The Pain Of Choice

It’s so easy to spin
Tumbling over, over
Losing my focus
In this maelstrom
Of possibility

For a choice requires
Leaving opportunity
Sitting in the sun
For another to grab.
What if that one
Is better than this one?
Too much of this
Is a table full of gifts
Where nothing is opened
And all potential
Evalotates into the day’s heat