they said snow—
in the yard, drifts of gray juncos
and heaps of all that isn’t
Posts Tagged ‘snow’
One More Storm that Didn’t Happen
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged poem, poetry, snow, spring, winter on March 28, 2018| Leave a Comment »
One in the Snow
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged path, poem, poetry, shoveling, snow on March 4, 2018| Leave a Comment »
No Way to Know Where They Go
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged love, poem, poetry, snow on February 6, 2018| 4 Comments »
By surprise, the snow
takes the night and by morning
nothing is the same
as it was—that’s what it’s like
falling in love. Everything
is the same, only
it isn’t. A steller’s jay
flies bluely through
the new world. Everything
is out there, waiting
for you to discover it again.
There are footprints
in the snow that
aren’t yours. Follow them.
The Need for Absence
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged absence, emptiness, poem, poetry, shoveling, snow on January 7, 2018| 4 Comments »
For an hour and a half, my son and I
create emptiness. All those places
where there was snow
on the drive and the walk,
we shovel them until there’s a long,
sinewy swath of absence.
It is deeply satisfying,
this moving of matter
from one place to another,
creating a path, a way.
When we are done, we lean
on our shovels and revel
in what is missing. We high five
and smile and feel as if we’ve really
accomplished something together.
How oddly full I feel
after this effort of emptying.
How many paths in me
are waiting to be exposed?
As the Pressure Drops
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged blizzard, bomb cyclone, compassion, forgiveness, poem, poetry, snow, weather on January 7, 2018| 12 Comments »
Across the country, blizzards—blizzards
so big that folks speak of bombogenesis
while standing in line in the coffee shop.
And the snow begins to fall, snow
blocks out the sun, snow fills the roads,
the drives, the sills until people begin to forget
who they are when there isn’t a storm.
Imagine the storm goes on.
Imagine that it isn’t snow falling,
but forgiveness. Imagine all those people
rising morning after morning to find
themselves buried in compassion.
Piles of it. Heaps of it. Giant white drifts of it.
It must be dealt with before anything else
can happen. Before people can even
walk out the door, they must lift it
and move it and feel its surprising weight.
Who knew there was so much of it? Who knew
just how completely it could shut things down
if not engaged with properly? It takes some time,
perhaps, before the people see
how beautiful it is, how every single thing
it touches is softened, turned to sparkle,
turned to shine. A disruption, to be sure,
but sometimes it takes a blizzard
to find the calm. Sometimes
we must be stopped
before we learn how to go on.
And the colder it gets, the more
we must work to be warm.
One Storm
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged brokenness, poem, poetry, snow on December 22, 2017| 4 Comments »
Going Round Trip
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged beauty, hiking, mountain, poem, poetry, snow on March 29, 2017| Leave a Comment »
After the first half mile
my shoes are soaked through
from post holing through knee deep snow.
There’s still a long way to go,
and the hike is for pleasure, after all,
so I decide it’s not so bad,
the squish of my socks,
the chill seeping in.
It’s just another way to remember
I’m alive, and though it’s slippery
and slushy, the trail,
and though I’m less nimble
than I’d wish to be,
look at that blue, blue sky,
and oh, my long shadow,
see how eagerly it leans to the east.
One Unselving
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged poem, poetry, skiing, snow on February 3, 2016| 2 Comments »
Poem Not Really About Melting Snow
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged anticipation, poem, poetry, snow on January 18, 2015| 2 Comments »
between the drips
of melting snow the waiting
for the next drip
Sign up for my daily poem!
Archives
Meta
