When I was 10,
it snowed in the coastal hills of West Marin.
On the morning of Christmas Eve
I awoke to a white world, transformed.
Never having seen snow before,
I ran out in the snow, barefoot,
my feet turned into blocks of ice.
But I didn’t care. I caught a chill,
but for a brief moment,
I was a Christmas angel
who had momentarily lost her wings,
dressed in a patchwork robe,
caught up in the middle of magic.
A halo of breath for a crown.
I didn’t want to go back inside,
but the cold shepherded me
back towards the hearth fire.
12/22/2 1
12/22/2 1
Terri Glass’ Write On ~ a Generative Poetry Gathering
No comments:
Post a Comment