traveling away from awakening
from fall to falling snow
in a hush wide as freedom
here I am, disguised as myself
first as rock, then as sand
then sand in an hourglass
first as rock, then as sand
then sand in an hourglass
I hear birds questioning the day
the cold is sage as a mother--
and savage--holding us still
__________
Pic: Snowfall along the Red Cedar. I've been keeping my promise to myself to get out (of the house/of my head) and walk more.
6 comments:
Such a pretty picture! We have had NO snow here and it's so strange to me!
We got so much snow yesterday! It's out of control and I'm already over it. Your snow looks dainty and pretty!
Was that your first snowfall? We haven't had any yet, but that's normal for here.
This poem---wow! I love the way it describes the arrival of winter and how the speaker is experiencing it. How she first feels solid and cumbersome, then freeflowing as time itself.
The third stanza is powerful. The personification of the cold being wise yet brutal yet maternal is a great imagistic risk to take. Winter is all of these things!
Thanks for sharing this. It really spoke to me. Great work.
Nicole, NGS, and StephLove--I feel we had like a Goldilocks-level of snow: not too much, too little, or none at all. Just perfect.
Nance! Thank you for your generous reading! <3 <3 <3. I need to play some more with "mother (MF-er)" and versions of "still." :). I post a lot of work that's in progress, so I apologize in advance for the frequently uneven quality of work. But I really, really thank you for taking the time for this.
Nice.
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