afternoon poem, February 19, 2015

How the snow cleans the lines of the mountains

Every ridge and fold visible

perfectly defined

With every leaf gone

And every branch naked and pointing

Jagged to the white sky

Waiting for resurrection.


Copyright 2015

This entry was posted in poetry and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s