Greetings from Alaska. Winter endlessly fascinates me…she is my muse. I am excited to announce that my first collection of poetry, The Latent Talent of Conception, will be published later this year, so keep visiting this blog for updates. Enjoy.
The Selfish Act of Winter
No matter how it falls,
Snow can never fall hard,
And that is the posture
I now adopt,
The occasional pine
Dusted with snow.
Hester’s wedding dress,
Exposing all her secrets.
I beg in three seasons now.
Spring finds me pleased with color.
Summer wilts me with my own heat.
Autumn begs to differ until
Blessed winter comes again.
I can quit roving the grass—
The hair of the earth
As Whitman said.
I make of you dirt,
Baked fields of warm sod,
While you assert
That you are ash,
Charred remnants of holiness.
How can I argue with that?
Our paradigms
As different as fall and spring,
Opposing poles
Pointing in some
Unknown direction.
And which is worse?
That you always sound
So composed,
Or that I’m still
Writing you,
This stalled facet
Of my inner life,
A brave faction
Holding out
In the face of all
Physical evidence.
The probability
As unlikely as the spring.
Mindy Goorchenko 
Your talent is great, Mindy. I cannot wait to read more.
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