AUTISM: A POEM
. . . . . XXVI. Solstice Snowfall
. . . . . 1
Another lake effect storm forms
. . . . . over the shore just north of here
on the shortest day of the year.
. . . . . A low late-day sun yet slowly sets
beyond a snow bank, although
. . . . . still frozen in place for a moment.
. . . . . 2
Behind empty nests, abandoned
. . . . . by birds or squirrels, now caught
in shadow like knots of darkness,
. . . . . we see—between black wet-bark
branches of leafless trees—streams
. . . . . of chimney smoke rise ever higher.
. . . . . 3
Alex smiles, sliding a full shovel
. . . . . along the driveway. He repeatedly
scrapes its steel blade down our
. . . . . steep blacktop, so pleased to be
easing a fresh layer once more
. . . . . toward the corner border of road.
. . . . . 4
Again, he shows his persistence.
. . . . . Even knowing everything taken
away will be replaced by morning,
. . . . . he continues until a path is clear,
pushing each load to where all
. . . . . the old snow has hardened to ice.
Ed, this strikes me as literal, yet lyrical; prosaic, yet poetic. I can picture it, and feel it, and I love it.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Pat. The description of your reaction to the piece is precisely what I had hoped would be the response.
ReplyDelete