April 21, 2018

Snow is not white
This time of mud and
Soft-shelled seed hulls
Peering back to find
The human suet carrier
Walking barefoot in service
Of the impatient tree.
The meaning of life
Has changed in the past
Thirty years not thinking of
Ivan Illyich’s predicament or
Don McLean’s premonition.
Living in the world of
Red squirrels and lovers
Needing out of the
Rehabilitation hospital.
Sitting still, the trees
Fall away leaving
The clear sky to block
Our view of the stone
Ledge overgrown with
Neon moss circled by
Melting not white snow.

Categories Poems

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