Delicate White Snow Falling

Paul walked west
on the right side of a rural Wisconsin highway.

A cow walked west
and the left side of the same highway.

Paul scanned the flat farmland
through a line of leafless trees

and saw no farmer or farm house
or anything dairy.

The cow occasionally bent over
for a new mouthful of grass.

Paul mentally flipped through
a book on Euclidean Geometry

thinking that is where
an explanation would be.

The cow matched Paul’s pace
and his halts

but not his delving for an answer
to what should not be a question.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney

Outside Port Angeles

Snow falls on the ocean
and approaches the cedars on land.

The mud at the side of a stream
that enters the ocean hardens by freeze.

Deer birds big cats hide themselves
as the fall thickens, speckles my line of sight.

I brought you here
into these ancient woods

under these conditions
thinking it might change you.

Foolish me.
But not disappointed

at your requests to go home
and make hot chocolate

for a seat by the hearth
to watch the dancing flames.

The snow collects on your long hair
scarf and shoulders.

I appreciate such beauty
and your bothered brown eyes.

You call out to our dog Home!
so she would know

we turned around
even though she was out of sight

bounding though the trees after a rabbit
not letting any snow collect on her back.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney

Among Cedars

Dora stands among cedars.
Snow falls.

Too sentimental.
Too beautiful

to become a poem

A cargo ship in Puget Sound
passes behind her.

The city skyline
takes shape across the water.

It intrudes on the island.
Dora looks past it to the Cascades.

The passenger ferry intrudes as well.
Its port is several miles north.

We have hours.
It is best when

we stand together
among cedars

and the world melts away
under falling snow.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney


Paul sat with a woman
at the bus stop.

They were with each other
without being with each other.

Unbeknownst to each of them
they shared a destination.

Paul heard the woman’s feet
complain about blisters.

The woman heard Paul’s feet
complain about blisters as well.

They both stared forward
not really acknowledging the other.

Christmas lights across the street
decked out Santa and his Sleigh.

There were reindeer too.
But no Rudolph with his red nose.

Paul and the woman cocked their heads
at the sound of a siren.

Snow began to fall.
More flakes landed on Paul.

The woman did not notice
this unfair distribution.

The bus arrived and splashed
snow melt onto the curb.

Paul let the woman enter the bus first.
There were plenty of open seats.

The bus driver paid Paul no mind once he paid.
He sat two rows in front of the woman.

A sign advertised the Frida Kahlo exhibit
at the art museum on the lake front.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney


Snow falls
like God’s
white hair
as a ribbon
pulls free
and the locks
down upon
the rounded
and curved spine
the series
of separate
and articulated
of faith.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney