Poem

An earlier post suggested this winter poem.


After snowfall

The waveless bay is silver.
Look: A black arrow of geese
hurtles up the cove.

Stalks of grass slant,
sepia on white: a Wyeth watercolor.
Sparrows puff against the cold.

Sprung from her leash, Daisy bolts behind me,
tearing a seam in pristine snow.
Her earflaps fly like flags.

I could watch her run forever.
I could hunt reflections of bright cold sky.
I could listen to pure silence here
where nothing is enough.