Two Octets from Early February

ice storm morning octet

(2/3/17)

beyond window glass, gray clouds shifting northwest;

ice glaze on the asphalt still gathers fragments

from lights not yet extinguished as day rises:

the cedars sway in their row, keeping tempo,

then halt—four crows strut the lot, a fifth glides on

imagined wind; last night, frozen staccato

tapping the window screen; these alien codes,

these shingles gone white, these dreams that don’t wake up

◦           ◦            ◦

6th ave octet

(2/3/17)

rainwater plunges from terracotta cornices,

hits the brick sidewalk, a window atomized—

across the avenue a single green bike

locked & fragile where Corinthian columns

rise higher than catenaries—whirling stream

sweeps leaves past the curb;  bus shelter roof glass

multiplies water fractals, frozen, liquid:

above, white icicles on one plane tree branch

Jack Hayes

© 2017