mid-day poem, February 5, 2016


The snow is gone now

Except in those places on the northern slopes

Where an outcropping or turning of the ridge

Hides some stretched rectangle in shadow all the day.

There lie white mounds, dirty and pocked

Eroding and withdrawing, slow as glaciers.


The streams are all running, too

Every branch and rill

Gurgles and laughs out loud

As if they were immortal rivers

And would not be dry beds by June.


copyright 2016

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2 Responses to mid-day poem, February 5, 2016

  1. A // W // F says:

    Wildness and life in mid-winter.

    I love it. 🙂

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