pruning the branches changes the shape of the tree not the tree itself
the plant we’d step on last week, is now the subject in a photograph
any time of year artificial flowers bloom where they are planted
cast in silhouette the last evening of winter fades without drama
the field of white snow ends abruptly; the textures of the wall threaten
no longer frozen my windows reveal a view that’s largely unchanged
the deep freeze settles on every windowpane with unique impact
once we’re adjusted to a new normal, the old seems to fade away
ice locks the windows to the outside world; patience knows they will open
the frozen window tells the truth, yet some of us will lick the lamppost
uptown jack 