New York


March arrived
but spring is still sleeping

Falling snow
quickly shoveled
Crystal salt
turns to slush
then frozen to ice

This is the pattern of winter

My boots are worn
my body itches
From too much sweaters
with lots of stiches

But I can still
hear the birds sing
Ride on subways
where boys are drumming

Even the man
on Union Square
with a chessboard
and two chairs
is still there

Waiting for you
to play with him

This is the pattern of winter

8/52 Pattern






 Some patterns from my Beirut living room:
tissue box
tea box lid
Syrian (sofa) bedspread
spotty tablecloth (once belonging to my 5609 miles away friend)
All of these patterns are so familiar I hardly notice them anymore, but soon, in less than a month, we will be leaving this living room, that we have made home.
Time to find and form new patterns for our lives.