Tuesday, January 19, 2010

SNOW

by Michael H. Brownstein

The soft lust of snow,
White imprints against the trees,
Diamond juice, clean, responsible,
And when the great melt comes,
We lean here against the rain,
A grand mist gathering into us
Like breath, like yellow light
At the corner, each tick
Another stream to the sea,
Flickers of color in fields of cloud.

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