A Twenty Minutes poem.
out of the upstairs bedroom window
I see just the thinnest layer of snow
outlining the rim of the neighbors’ chimney.
I don’t know how it got there
since to me it seems
looking out the of the upstairs bedroom window
the snow floats in the air
appeared out of nowhere
going I don’t know where
a swirl of whiteness not pausing but
traveling right through the
ladder lying out in the yard
like ghosts do
walking through walls you know
I see no snow here in the upstairs bedroom
so I’ll strike that idea.