Dec 16
poem 0 comments challenge: Snow
Darth Nyan's picture

My Vermont


Pitch black but for the moon
Cold, silver light reflects on the field
That is now a white waste.

I exhale.
My breath becomes the only cloud in this
Otherwise clear night.

The big dipper glows brightly,
As if to say:
“Follow, and ye shall freeze.”

But I do not heed its warning
And I follow it across the field
To a cabin with an orange glow
And firewood piled high

This is my home
My womb and my tomb
This is my Vermont
 
Darth Nyan's picture
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