January 21, 2015 by PaulM Posted in Poetry Leave a Comment
Brown in their winter skins, they rise up,
Lean pointers, borders of the wilderness.
After January rain, glass branches rock,
Melting and re-freezing as air shifts from fog to chill.
Across the shelf of Mount Monadnock,
Under a white flannel sun,
Wind blows the snow like cold smoke.
—Paul Marion (c) 1976, 2014