The trees in my yard have a clarity foregrounded

against the thinning fog.  The winter grass looks

ready for spring.  My heart’s discontent is a love 

song.  There is nothing I can do to change this scene,

this time, this longing in its blessings and curses.

That is what longing is – Jacob clinging to the angel,

the blessing, the wounding not letting go gives.

The poetry where everything fits – every step 

a dance step, every stumble a fall.

The low growling harmony of love songs where

every moment is a honky-tonk, all the music blues.

My discontent a hesitant redemption, a promise

that only I can break.  The fog is nearly gone.

Hootism: my heart isn’t rational but it wins so many arguments

enjoy!