--- In [email protected], "Gayle Medeiros" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
wrote:
>it is warmer. it must continue to be ...
> Where, as I discover as I go throughDown the long course of the
gray slush of thingsHomeward into the howling woods, althoughDim,
and die tonight?When Arctic winds crack down from CanadaDim, and die
tonight?Dreaming time has reversed, I watch drowned snowBut snow has
gathered there, has piled up,whose soft bristles graze the top-
racks.Away, my songs, must we goTo listen, by the sputtering,
smoking fire,It's snowing, it's returning to a townBronze the sky,
with noSculpting each tree to fit your ghostly form.To follow in the
path of their brief blossomingAre gliding toward me on the ice
intoMy keyhole blows a galeThe snowflakes are swirling, blotting
outSilence. Your way of being. Your way of seeing
>
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