The Blanket This Year: James Adamson

I have taken comfort from the cold
There has been the nullification of much
Truth has been powerful
Lies have become obvious
Completion is in everything past
Sleep has been real as with rest
Tomorrow is cut in half yet it always grows
The night descends like cocoon
Overcast skies are beautiful
Love for family and friends embraces me
My hopes for the future are real
Blue skies are like laughter
Gardens are not a metaphor for intelligence
The mind is greater than fertility
Although we don’t think it enough
As with women who fertilize society
Yet are far beyond the fields we own
Their worldliness is impervious and children always seem close
Their hands ready within a center
Blood and water and milk
And soil and cleanliness are their companions
Men strive to copy them
The planet is female
With caves and sheltered forest
They have a worldly power
What is mankind except that which exceeds evolutionary status
Where giant buildings full of possession and satellites
The crazy array of possessions left after a natural disaster
Celebration is not self-deception
Our things have their place over the value of our lives
All could be taken away yet serendipity and centerpiece
Raising the insignificant to notice
These things will always warm me
The reason for our effort is more than things
We must focus our acquisition
Yet our worries are real and they indicate time grappling with waste
Stretching your hand into tomorrow causes phantom pain
With books of my poems accused of the destruction of rain forests
Everyone has demons attacking
But they all contradict themselves
They fixate on us individually
Destructive spirits are like destructive ideas
We must battle them in our own minds
Love will find a way
And if nothing changes no news is good news
There are many means of shelter from the cold
A blanket will arrive on the wind
Home will live again
Everyone exists to be loved and that is our equality
All kinds of weather are beautiful at least if they change
Or if destruction is not included
The irony of the beauty of a storm
What you grasp hold close to your chin and breast
Welcome others into theirs
With a birth with every drop of water