Date: Sun, 25 Feb 2007 23:25:43 +0100
In the woods, close by,
Some stubborn sprouts up through the stubble hay,
Oh, I know. The snow. The effective snow
Toward the still dab of white that oscillates
And up there I cannot tell if it is still
The winter road from the St. Simeon farm
snoozing. A schoolgirl on vacation gapes,
With its lament, it often sounds, instead,
That open before me? What I see
Stunned in their voiceless way to be alive
Bronze the sky, with no
Through the back of the picture at the patch of white
To have been claimed by what we see of what
Figures of light and dark, these two are walking
With sun's warmth wasted on a stone,
Stunned in their voiceless way to be alive
And so I gaze avidly
Is it almost honey, is it snow?
Like an old soldier, wakeful, in his tent!