Tuesday, March 24, 2009

A Dance, Beloved, For The Price of A Poem

A surprising warmth greets Mason and I, our long explore tired

The snow stays quite stickily on my red heeled shoes.

Barn friends are still waiting for clear ground;

their pointy cloven hooves, starving to join us

down in some green leafed out bower.

Just as my voice hits a high note, a tremendous slide

blind crashes ice shattering off the roof.

The red expanse looks at us gratefully; the smoke stack spared.

I'm again impressed with gravity.

(A wonderful Writer's Almanac with Redoubt and Volcanic Spew)

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