BRUNK HOWARD


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snowfall out of time

I’m walking a path whose end is obscure

On a search  looking for the cure

To the slow motion blues in a speed of light world

Set in motion by an unhurried, syncopated word.


Alone with my thoughts that drift in and out

Trying for a word with no doubt

But slipping on ice lying all about.

Can't connect even by shout.


I’m waiting for snow to cover the ground,

To show that something lost is something found.


Storm clouds shoot; I see them through the pines

As my restless thoughts look for my place in time.

Looking for an anchor that was never meant to be

In the shifting, rolling landscape that some call me.


There's whispering in the air that roars yet is still,

That covers the valley as it covers the hills,

That covers my path as it passes me by,

That sighs like the north wind before it starts to cry.


I’m waiting for snow to cover the ground,

To show that something lost is something found.


The light drops, as trees grow taller

And my movement stops, as I grow smaller.

There’s no one in sight; world’s packed up and gone.

Except for me, the path, the trees and the need to carry on.


For what’s the destination if it has no name;

Will we see it or is it all the same?

Or do we pass it by as though it didn’t exist

Not realizing what it is that we’ve  missed?


I’m waiting for snow to cover the ground,

To show that something lost is something found.


First flakes fall, my thoughts conceal their presence.

Blinded by thinking of essence.

Suddenly I see the unseen

Suddenly I see my dream.


All turns white as whisper becomes drum.

All turns sight, I look where I came from

And see my footsteps in the snow

Next to others that came  ago.


I turn to my future on a path without name

And stand frozen cause it looks the same.

My footsteps are in the snow

Next to others walking towards know.


I’m waiting for snow to cover the ground,

To show that something lost is something found.