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.