Looking upward, memories
looking down, below my feet
outward, beyond my vision
a seam in the cold December sky
cut, white, ivory, in the darkening clouds
an echo, a memory
fissured cracks in a Minnesota lake
thirty-seven years ago
Tendrils to the seam, like fingers of frost
feathering the edges, the light seeping
coming through the moving line
reaching beyond my vision
driving north under glowering skies
December 4, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment