Snow falls, flakes
large and soft
as winging moths
in street light fire.
They rain a pure
white whisper
resolved to fall
on silent fields,
stilled ponds,
tortured traffic and all
the brown dumpsters of
the wild woman city.
Cars go limping
through slush.
Our aching hips
remember--we are
the wicked
and the good,
the wrestlers under
some relentless grace.
large and soft
as winging moths
in street light fire.
They rain a pure
white whisper
resolved to fall
on silent fields,
stilled ponds,
tortured traffic and all
the brown dumpsters of
the wild woman city.
Cars go limping
through slush.
Our aching hips
remember--we are
the wicked
and the good,
the wrestlers under
some relentless grace.
"a pure white whisper"; "the wild woman city" -- as always, I love your imagery!
ReplyDeleteThank you! So glad you enjoyed it :)
Delete"the wrestlers under some relentless grace"
ReplyDeleteThank you for this poem most sincerely.
You're most welcome, and thank you for reading! Poems are always better shared.
Delete