Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Covered.


When the flakes finaly fell, they were small and fat like love notes.

Now, glitter below and glister above, my path by lamplight is six inches higher in hardpack, my footsteps groaning all the way home as though I were the world's ghost, as though I tracked the right wide floorboard, the broad plank on an iced ship.

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Lovely bit of writing there: "When the flakes finally fell, they were small and fat like love notes."

Wishing you a steady snowfall...

4:06 AM, January 30, 2009  

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