Wednesday, June 29, 2011

The Year Ends (Mononucleosis)

And growing silently tall
in the deep snow, the oaks said,
And women?

Quietly, I gathered the snow in my hands
as, silently, the ground reached up
to brush the tips of my fingers.

And the oaks, astonished, lowered their leaves
to wreath me in a falling crown of gold.

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