Spectrum in winter

Snow angels

have deepened into the banks,

fence posts darkened

where yesterday's warmth rose in them

from the buried ground.

Curved tines of grandfather's hay rake

make a shallow sketch in black, an archway

along a drift where fat sparrows alight -

the only movement.... All else

white and gray-toned:

frosted pines and sky, pillowed outbuildings,

our frozen route of footprints to the creekbed...

its shallow current now iced in breaking slivers

that point strangely upstream

all day through the field.

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.

Loading...

Loading...

Loading...