A Winter Evening in Vermont



Somewhere in my soul

there is still snow

on an open field

in Vermont.


It is still


sunset silhouettes

of trees reaching

for pale sheet of sky

stretched thin above

little lives.


It is still


a little



of animal bedding

and broken tools and pallets

we prop up like ladders

to reach the roof.


It is still


air glittery with

errant snowflakes,

relocating with the wind.


It is still


snow boots on a

frozen pond,

black-ice footprints

in the snow

and nowhere

to go.


It is still


snow angels

and frozen toes

and no one home

but you and me

and nowhere

to be

for days.


It is still.

Somewhere in my soul

there is still.