An Otherwise Day Becomes
a blowing drift
a snowy path
impatient
to be swept clean
we bend and shovel
…………….slice and stack
small attention
is how we steady ourselves
…………..–fragile and old
we eye the child-shadows
on the lawn
each faceted flake
turns in bedazzlement
a windless image
we surmised
buried in time
liberally dropped out of the sky.
.
