Morning Poem, January 30, 2017


When covered with snow

This hill I walk seems like a faraway place

Although I’ve known it since childhood

Each new snow coats it in a different way

Now there is crystal frost on the heads of the long grass

And snakelike windprints on the untouched surface

The pine boughs are heavy and drooping

And black crows circle and light

Like inkdrops on a page.



In this early stillness

I would swear I have walked back in time

Where the grandparents of the ones I knew

Stoke the hearth for last night’s embers

And lay new kindling on the red coals.


In fact I see the smoke from the chimneys.


Copyright 2017

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