
I watch the pouring snows/ The last of winter’s throes . . . 03/12/2018
First the stillness
portending
the silence
descending.
The last of winter this way comes.
The first flakes
wending,
waxing larger,
distending.
She surges, clings, suppresses, numbs.
As we endure,
transcending,
her spirit
commending,
Spring, over throes, a requiem hums.