A crow cawls across the ridge.
Snow tips from ten thousand limbs.
Some falls up, the way
ash ascends a flue.
Like smoke, the blackbirds billow,dip and curl into white sky.She remembers whatwill soon be water.
The Children and I in WinterWe've got snow up to our ears.Oswego New York is cold,six ear lobes are blue,the wind finds us all.
ice is the biggest threat, andfleet feet find it treacherous;no matter how fast, slipand flat on the back.
Warm Crept OverWe are the bent bones breaking,old trees fumbling under snow.Light peels forward like new skin. The ice melts.
Like smoke, the blackbirds billow,
ReplyDeletedip and curl into white sky.
She remembers what
will soon be water.
The Children and I in Winter
ReplyDeleteWe've got snow up to our ears.
Oswego New York is cold,
six ear lobes are blue,
the wind finds us all.
ice is the biggest threat, and
ReplyDeletefleet feet find it treacherous;
no matter how fast, slip
and flat on the back.
Warm Crept Over
ReplyDeleteWe are the bent bones breaking,
old trees fumbling under snow.
Light peels forward like
new skin. The ice melts.