Winter Poems | Poetry | Seven Days | Vermont's Independent Voice

Published December 22, 2021 at 10:00 a.m.
Updated December 22, 2021 at 10:27 a.m.

  • Dreamstime

i know

many people

who wouldn’t spend

all sunday afternoon

by a creek in the woods

waiting for a glimpse

of muskrat or nuthatch

wondering in the meantime

over falling snowflakes

how they melt against

a clear pool’s surface

yet do not make

the water wet


i know these people

but i haven’t seen

much of them lately

on a big-moon night

the snow throws sparks

and both eyes leap to catch

what can’t be caught


the instant




on a big-moon night

in snowstorms

for some reason

trees are more

like people

which is to say

people appear

which is to say

borders blur


i wonder

in snowstorms

what is it

about crystals falling

from the depths of sky

that makes my i

just another i

that tells me

don’t miss the forest

for the trees

for what feels to me

like a long three minutes

the tiny black spider

explores my bootprint

one thousand miles

ten thousand miles

one hundred thousand miles

blank snow everywhere

i do not doubt

the significance of this life

in this endless white

but neither do i understand