Wednesday, March 23, 2011

On a Bus Headed North

20 below, everything fades to white,
fields stretch to a white horizon
each tree, woodlot is rimmed in frost
and the white non-light still holds
against an unseen dawn.
On the snow mantled farm the
red buildings bleed to rose,
the yard light shines like a grounded star,
and if I could stop and walk
up the long path, pass the granaries,
the black on white piano key
repetition of fence posts,
would I be a mysterious guest
a magi, or merely home?



But we continue north to a grey,
shuttered city, waiting for spring to come
and open it like a can.


2 comments:

Kathiesbirds said...

LOve, love, love this! Can I borrow that can opener? I am so ready for spring to come and stay and not play this little do-si-do with us!

Guy said...

Hi Kathie Yes I think most of us are ready for spring but it seems to be riding in on an inchworm. They are predicting more snow here for the weekend but not too too cold. Here's hoping you see spring soon.

Guy