A January poem
January 22, 2012 § Leave a comment
snow: still and white.
beyond the roar and slush of the street,
past the fence, a pasture. blanketed.
four chocolate black horses
bend their necks to nuzzle for grass.
the sky grows night blue behind them.
and in a moment I am not in
this car, not post-holiday gray,
but brushing wet velvet noses,
a little girl with periwinkle mittens
who knows, after all, that
something so beautiful
must be fraught with magic.