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Writ in snow

by Kevin T. McEneaney
Mon Feb 15th, 2016

Writing names in snow with my grandson,

we celebrate our temporality

before wind, wandering eyes, history,

which appears fleeting as mountain snow-melt

or roadside plough-sludge in the valley.

When children breathe breaking rays of dawn

topping a hill, stunned by golden sunlight

bejeweling oak and elm, what do they think?


When trees, laden with blooming leaves, wave

their pennants with such excess of beauty,

they seem to whisper of red revelry

like susurration of grass by a stream.

The severity of winter gleans snow

with poignant, icicle-blue memories.