Saturday, February 6, 2010


Here is a poem I wrote back in 1979, in Emmitsburg, the last time we had a snow event this size:


The deaf snow speaks in sign like a prophet.
His fingers remark the landscape swiftly, stolidly.
They say
This time I am serious.
He cups his thick hand on the birdsnest,
levels the driveways,
leans on the trees,
pulls the sky down to the earth -
nebulae swirl by the second story windows.
This time I am serious.
This time you will hear me.


Ronda Kisner said...

Wow. That is a lot of snow. I live in Minnesota, so I know about snow.

It is delightfully calming thought, isn't it?



Ronda Kisner said...

I meant "It is delightfully calming though, isn't it?.

Silly me.