In Which Wintry Weather Makes Me Reflect

I am no Bonaparte; my armies fight

Their best in winter's snows and wind and cold.

Alone I stand out in the freezing night

And look up at the stars and feel how old

This world is and is not. Dichotomies

Like these are occupying me of late.

I'm of the cast of mind such that it please,

Not anger me to sit and contemplate,

While crystals made of ice pummel and sting

My face, how things and people never are

As simple as they seem. Each little thing

They do results from infinite, bizarre

Tempestuous processes, chaos-tossed

Until at last they're frozen fast as frost.

What I Wonder As I Wander Around Denver International Airport

Each time I come back home I have some time

To while away while waiting for the van

That is my last leg on this trail of grime

And squalor that gets me back to Cheyenne,

I wander the great teepee pile we call

The Jeppeson Terminal at DIA,

And wonder if there is among them, all

These other wand'rers, one whom I just may

Have met before or known or been flamed by.

I wonder, too, if anyone but me

Is list'ning to the kind of songs that I

Have pumping through my earbuds. There might be

A fan of Marian Call in this same bar!

Or of FZ or Bhtch tunes. How bizarre!