winter came early this year
and nobody seemed
to give a damn
instead everyone was frozen
glued to their personal devices
as if they were mere machines
screams coming from across
the pond fell on deaf ears
except for those cheering
from the other side
meanwhile dark-eyed juncos
just got back in town today
while fat-breasted robins
continued to hang out
for some dumb reason
november two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we talked about the weather
how it would destroy us all
how it would appear out of nowhere
and blow away our dreams
just when everything seemed
to be falling into place
we spent hours catching up on time
that never really belonged to us
that somehow tricked us into thinking
seasons forever cycle
in the end all we could talk about
was the weather
and then we went our separate ways
november two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the river ran dry
the year of the drought
collapsing the water table
atop its own legs
the wishing well closed
from lack of moisture
turning back all the day dreamers
hoping for change
september two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
He entered the house where decades ago he slept in a crib
in one of four bedrooms. Once inside a curious sense of loss
breathed throughout the rooms void of knickknacks and heirlooms.
A flurry of past and present images projected onto the walls
as memories both vague and succinct darted here and there.
In the kitchen the refrigerator exhaled and ice hit the empty tray.
Bending on one knee he reached his arm and unplugged the unit,
a slight emission emanating a smell much like Marlboro Light.
january two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
walking in i felt a presence
had just left
leaving behind a draft
coming from the return vent
a lone light shone
above the kitchen sink
highlighting the drip
that hadn’t been fixed for days
i thought i might find
a note on the counter
next to sunday’s newspaper
instead found a grocery list
along with a few coupons
the cat sauntered on the tile
and rubbed up against my ankle
sounding off in a bluesy way
somehow knowing
change was here to stay
december, two thousand eleven
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
