Thursday, January 15, 2009

A poem: Isabella In The Snow

I sleep and snow falls ...

settles thickly on windowsills,
drifts deeply over graveyard crosses,
covers familiar streets with zigzags of velvety chenille.
The worn-out neighborhood where I've lived
for too many years transforms to alabaster splendor.

The alarm goes off and he brushes
tangled hair from my cheek,
whispers against my ear that it's snowing.
I peek out expecting a few flakes
but everything is buried under layers of white.

I raise the old roller shade,
force open my frozen window to breathe icy air,
lean my forehead against cold glass
watch my breath spread in a frosty cloud.
I think maybe we'll be snowed in together all day.

Then I see them in the backyard snow,
a chain of footprints
linking enormous block letters
carved with a broom handle,
letters that make me smile ...


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