Shifting screen of snow
obscures branch, shrub, gate, statue
The streets line with ghosts
—
A chilled, windless walk
Muted steps on sterile white
Did God flood with ice?
—
Pale sun lifts slow sheets,
exposing black-bone branches
Red boots thrust through slush.
———————————————————————————————————————————————–
“…is it for these reasons that there is such a dumb blankness, full of meaning, in a wide landscape of snows- a colorless, all-color of atheism from which we shrink?” ~~Herman Melville, Moby Dick
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