I just wrote this poem. Two days ago. It’s waited long enough. It fits this time, right now. No more thinking it over, no more fussing with any part of it. Just let it say what it says as it occurred to me right now. So here it is. Thanks for reading.

Drawing Lesson

Black bare trees
massed together
branches intermingled
so that they rub limbs in the wind
creaking and groaning in shared despair
Malicious white snow
falling in such tiny flakes
so fast and so crowded together
that it has become
a being in itself and is no longer
a collection of individuals
each with its own pattern to fulfill
The sky a dimness
a suffocating grayness
pressing down from above
All of it cold and grim
forces arrayed
against my house
my window
Then –
A black and white chickadee
quick quick sketches a swooping line
up, over, down, up again straight up against the window and gone
marking a thick black scoring-out
right through the previous
view of things.

From the front yard. January, 2015.

From the front yard. January, 2015.


3 thoughts on “Transformation

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