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| marian veverka |  | 1. Fog in Winter A narrow snake of fog Slinks thru a corner of the yard A shred of a guilty conscience Revealing things hidden as It draws the snow away. A spilled black garbage bag Scattered by animals, sleeves From a sweater I threw away Cling to some wet magazines. As the soggy snow disappears, More trash is revealed, rusted cans And bottles that missed the bin – Pieces dropped as the trashmen Hauled them to the truck. When winter passes from its tidy White landscape it exposes too Many things we thought were finally Gone. I don’t intend to touch that stuff again 2. Winter wonderland A field of brilliant white, smooth and undisturbed Shall we go out now and disturb it? I see it beckoning, even in our most frigid states The impulse to fling oneself into another element In this case the atmosphere, clouds to heavy Over-burdened with frost, the atmospheric chill Settled to earth and waiting Waiting for us to be poetic To leave our impressions Of angelic splendor - then Hurrying back into the warmth Behind the windows, drawing The blinds while we remain Filled with wine and laughter Our true selves and our better selves If it were always so simple To slip from one to the other. 3. The World Transformed by Frozen Fog Last night the foghorn moaned As one by on all shapes vanished in the fog. Sunrise brought the cold and frost Transformed the world with a shroud Of silver. Silver are the rooftops And the cars. Silver the trees and Every branch and twig is silver coated. Silver the stalks from last year’s garden. Silver seed heads hold pods of silver seeds. The clothes line is a ribbon of silver Stretching across the silver yard. Silver is the breath we’ve held This silver morning – how long Before the west wind wakes and With a powerful morning yawn Shrivels up the silver sheen , exposing Realities dull image to the dawn. | |
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