Winter’s First Snow (or Nowhere To Go)

By Michael Dorr

Last night
winter’s
first snow
swirled
bereft of design
or reason,
illuminated by
a single parking
lot light,
each flake descending
from the overcast sky
toward a
destiny
certain and
unknown.

Yes, for the first time
in years,
nowhere
to go,
nowhere,
Love, to be
but here,
I stood, arms at my side,
with more lost
than gained,
in the dark kitchen by
its sole
window
scarred with frost
and watched the
snow’s lonely
descent
with only
your treason
to keep me
company.

Ah well, tis
the season.

Published January 28th, 2016


Poet, writer, editor, former publisher, educator, cultural critic, and (briefly) a gravedigger, Michael K. Dorr is a Phi Beta Kapa cum laude graduate of Hofstra University, where he studied film, theater, history, anthropology, and astrophysics.  He is co-editor of MILES ON MILES: Interviews and Encounters with Miles Davis.  He lives in Brooklyn, New York with a Rhodesian Ridgeback runt named Trixie Maybeline.