Monday, March 9, 2015

Snow On The Windows \ Climbing March Hill #4

Nancy: When the windows are obliterated with whirling blowing snow, only the mind can escape.

Snow On The Windows

a landscape
a geology textbook
a campsite at Jumbo Rocks
a canyon, walking deep into history
a rolling meadow
a cave
Mount Kailas, streaming cloud
I might say
    I am shut in
    yes, I am shut in

Alan: Snowstorm after snowstorm, six feet, nine feet, eleven feet... And yet even in this hard winter, early March hints at another season coming.

Climbing March Hill #4

You say, “Look at the sky!”
I see “bruised.”  I see “angry.”
“Livid.”  I see welts,
something stretched out wounded.
Your pain and mine, everyone’s.
Lifetimes of hurts.

I see a storm far to the south,
heavy thumb on the mid-Atlantic states.
Stranded commuters.  A jet
off the runway, almost
in the river.  People running.
I see long tongues of flame.

I see this through another window
than last time.  Another angle,
a little farther north.
I see a furnace banking itself behind spruces,
the sharp line of trees on the crest of the hill we live on.
A blindly biting mouth.

I see winter suddenly afraid of its own mortality.
I see a break in the storms, a chance for the snow to settle.
I see another cold night coming and a clear dawn,
the evening star setting west.
I see seeds waiting under the snow.
“Beautiful,” I say to you.  “Beautiful.”

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