Raymond A. Foss Poems

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Cold, falling down, from the snow banks, still too high
rimming the lot, cold, palpable
like a wave, like a fog, a presence
moving down, out, across the wet blacktop
Rising to me, a kiss of cold
brushing my cheek, seeking my face
the smell of cold, a living fragrance
wrapping round me, urging me on
tongues of cold, enticing, certain
Stop, feel them, moving dunes,
crest, fall, dancing in the early night
before the turning of the season

March 6, 2009 20:10-20:25
written at Agape Café
Wesley United Methodist Church
Concord, NH
about walking from my car to the fellowship hall

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