The snow is a perfectionist –
insists on replicating
intricately endless blankets
of itself – as if to broadcast
the reentry of an ancient
white confectionary wealth.
You huddle, quilted – warm,
indoors – head cold-sick,
pleasurably watching, feeling
blanknesses grow thick.
insists on replicating
intricately endless blankets
of itself – as if to broadcast
the reentry of an ancient
white confectionary wealth.
You huddle, quilted – warm,
indoors – head cold-sick,
pleasurably watching, feeling
blanknesses grow thick.
.
I wish we had snow here, but I guess the rain is nice enough.
ReplyDeleteFeel better!