Old Snow
Text Box: Spring Meditations Text Box: Old Snow Spring is found in everything frozen by death, footprints become waves in a cold ripple sea. My overcast heart: an eternal horizon of gray. Yet chickadees are singing, my ravens calling, circles around tree trunks widen with each day; twisted shapes sculpt wrinkles on pocked skin. Five months of forest refuse lays atop melting; damp and dreary with my hackneyed cliques, this lover is an old woman with matted hair.