This snow is generous. It
floats in the unhurried way
of old ladies, looking at
trays of fruit in an open
market.
I imagine collections of like
friends, meeting on the tops
of trees. There are hours of
jostling talk, an entire evening
of greetings.
Until laying down, one
body by one body to sleep,
they stretch out across this
darkness, made mute by this
still landscape.
This snow is generous. It has
a pure tenderness whispering,
close your eyes and stand,
wait in the dark for the soft,
cold touch of this
white dropping sky.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
September
The oak tree in the backyard is finally turning yellow. I'm always reminded of these photos I took with Andrew and Nadia when the tree ...
-
Excavation They are out in the street, digging up the cement with huge metal claws. Beneath is the dried dirt, full of pebbles. Below tha...
-
The leaves on the big backyard Oak have the first tinge of yellow and boom. My brain, friend and foe, presents a memory, me talking the two...
-
A harsh wind fists the forests’ wall of leaves. The shaken green smell expands my chest, cracking me open to air. Thunder sounds, vibr...
No comments:
Post a Comment