A Poem- for February 

An apricate windowsill,
stone attested home,
a snowless cold sun
interminably lithic 

are all the mournful
bonds of solid delight
constantly worked over,
occasioned character 

pendant on presence
that is an oblique mien
engraved, furrowed,
surly by the wearings 

measured with yesterday
while held to the angled
thin crests of noonday
tracing only instance.