December dust whips,
piling in drifts,
burning my eyes.
colder under cyan skies—
I caught the blues,
snowblind and frozen,clearing the driveway.
more bitter than usual
in the spinning chaos today.
I used to see prairie tumbleweeds
flying down snowy roads on their toes—
getting lost in concrete wildernesses,
piling in corners and hanging with fences.
but now I only see suburban tumbleweeds,
cigarette butts piling in drifts,
plastic bags stuck on trees,
aluminum cans scintillating in the sun—
a superfluous glittering
on an already sparkly face.