Under a wintry sky
I wrangle words into art.
These words slip and falter,
Sometimes they even shatter
As vases to my heart.
Working under cold and bareness
I stich together some sort of meaning.
Other times I just sit,
Coaxing my brain to finagle one more piece.
It doesn’t always end well,
But I continue to ponder deeply
As my mind is an ocean,
And I a mere diver to its depths.
Finding the pearl is difficult,
But I surface, bringing it to the chilly air.
And it again becomes words,
Typed onto an online page.
© 2017 Valerie Hathaway