A History Of The North Country
I linger on the blowing
passage that
drifts whorls of snow
across crisp swept pages,
great heaving shoulders poised
on the thin cusp
at the white margins,
finger floating down the
flawless powdered face lacing
through stands of
towering words their
branches thrusting high
into the blue vault
frantically combing
a rising ocean of carbon for
a path
back over mirror ice and
hushed cushioned
floors of boreal forest,
locked away
in sedimentary pages, ancient
runes set to thaw and seep
before my eyes.
No comments:
Post a Comment