Dust of Snow
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
Trying to determine what is going on in the world by reading newspapers is like trying to tell the time…
It's a poor sort of memory that only works backward.
Separation Your absence has gone through me Like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with its color.