Powerless Morning

Delicate flakes of snow fall on my fragile autumn leaves.

The weight forces my branches towards the ground.

At my breaking point, I give in and release my limbs.

Power lines are helpless.

My city goes dark.

Everyone is forced to enjoy the real silence of the rising sun and falling snow.



David Seguin.


Falling for a Week

Monday, you met on the bridge. She demanded discretion. You stood close, touching, whispering. The river rushed below, pushing up cool air.

You called; she didn’t answer.

You texted; she didn’t text.

Friday, you stood on the bridge. Embarrassed, you stepped back, into a woman. Picking each other up, staring, smiling, hoping she’s not married?



David Seguin.