Winter Poem Fragment #8 (31 January, 2016)

The circle of German pine trees My grandfather planted Was surprisingly easy to find. They tower, swaying so mightily In the winter wind That they creak Rubbing against each other. I lay down on the snowy ground To gaze up at them And at the opaque white sky behind...
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Winter Poem Fragment #7 (5 January, 2016)

The cold today Was like red-penned grammar corrections On a heartfelt poem. After a long stretch Of unusually temperate weather, Stepping abruptly into it, I gasped then held my breath As I was afraid To take the cold inside my lungs. Bluish air rushed into The gaps...
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Winter Poem Fragment #6 (28 December, 2015)

It is late and cold. A tiny, rusted windchime sounds. I hear geese in the distance. I drop my shoulders.
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Winter Poem Fragment #5 (January 26, 2011)

Towering pine trees That were young in my grandfather’s youth Sway against the winter sunset. Some of the many geese who have occupied the small pond In the center of town Fly over in a neat flock of eleven, The places where their feathers are white, glowing orange....
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Winter Poem Fragment #4 (26 January, 2011)

Hushed Has graduated to epic With the decent of night, Continued heavy snow, The addition of wind, and, just now Thunder and lightning. The radiator sighs and squeals.
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Winter Poem Fragment #3 (Happy Birthday, Mamie, 26 January, 2011)

Outside is characterized by luminous opacity The edges of things are running together, All white, with dim densities indicating forms The sky, the ground, the air and buildings Are all bleached and bright. The only contrast It is the dark underside of tree branches...
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Poem Fragment #2 (Poem a Day, 11 January, 2011)

There is a quiet blizzard Filling the night, Covering the tree branches Outside the window. It is just as it was a year ago During Simon’s first week of life. I remember the magic of falling in love, The flow of day into night And into day again, Silver trains gliding...
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Winter Poem Fragment 1 (Poem a Day 6 January, 2011)

It is too cold for shadows This sky is still streaked with sunrise. Inside a reverent hush I participate by moving slowly And speaking in a whisper. 6 January 2011
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A List of Lasts

The last day of third grade Is so clear. There are cupcakes and gold stars. You can give the lastness of it Your full attention. Not so the last time I saw my friend (alive) The last time I roller skated to work, The last time I drew you, Or the last time we made...
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100 Black Birds

Let me not flatten you out For my own comfort, my love. If you call yourself a morning person, Then dance all night, I’ll not consider it defection. An old pattern twitches in my mind, Like birds pointed south. Thank you for understanding Why I don’t have a favorite...
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