Something about this poem. That "live the lunge" (My wife, Jennifer) and someone reminded me yesterday (a-a-Pam-choo) that I rewrote it --because something bothered me about it from the get go. (Interior logic flaw, thank you +James R.) So anyway, some twenty versions later ('cause "poetry is work") and perhaps forever open to revision as I'm not feeling the finish quite yet, I have the following:
Winter-lence is not always lovely,
when only these lucent glimmers remain
in runnels and rills the All retamed
and drops the name of numinous.
No less my mind’s alive with eerie:
the abyss abides under every sun
and I live the lunge, All’s inscape at work
‘til the final footfall sounds.