I have invited no one
by Dale Williams
to this morning, but someone
has invited me. I am not ready
to assist trumpets - the pain
of trumpets and their undoing -
not ready to spend any
money at all today
on anything less than
the good, nothing
with crushed red peppercorns,
nothing choked
by the tangled knot
of bare linden branches.
Spring itself hovers far away
as it always does. There is not
one syllable that can make me
want to stay here.
I tried this once before.
We are none of us afraid
of crowds anymore.
Winter is here and there
for now.
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