By Thomas Page

Snowbanks beleaguer the dusty highways

Days after heavy clouds poured frozen rain

Lain in the form of snowflakes so slowly,

Holy like the prayers, falling straight down on

Yon hibernating trees in my backyard—

Graveyard of a sleeping nature there

Where it will resurrect like a phoenix;

Scenics of the Dutch Masters centuries,

Treasuries, and histories winters gone

Dawn of the new year covered in snow—tanks.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s