Slush Fool

(This one always seems to be best in the summer, perhaps it's the contrast of the thought of quiet winter in the midst of a busy summer day. An old poem from some years back.)

Slush Fool

He never liked me singing

He never took to my wings

So I sit on the fence

To wait for those

Little crumbs in the snow

Melting into the green

Mushed up rain dreams

If I decide to fly

What will you do?

If I decide

I'm no slush fool

Winter discord in this place

Catch your breath and the icy trace

Of words freezing in the space

Opening up between us

Spring is the dream

Melting into the green

If I decide to fly

What will you do?

If I decide
I'm no slush fool

He never liked me singing

He never took to my wings

I think I'm about to fly

I think I'm about to sing