How Is It That the Snow

How is it that the snow
amplifies the silence,
slathers the black bark on limbs,
heaps along the brush rows?

Some deer have stood on their hind legs
to pull the berries down.
Now they are ghosts along the path,
snow flecked with red wine stains.

This silence in the timbers.
A woodpecker on one of the trees
taps out its story,
stopping now and then in the lapse
of one white moment into another.

Robert Haight

2 thoughts on “Snow

  1. FINALLY I get back over to your beautiful blog! Not being able to read what you have done was a real loss, so I’m thrilled to be back. This poem is so beautiful–the brevity of the line breaths coupled with that amazing language. “Slathers the black bark on limbs.” I wish I had written that line!! I have learned to love the beauty of winter, and the astounding images in this piece portray it so well it makes me want to cry.

    I’m loving your political posts, too. I actually know a bit more than the average American does about Canadian government, because I read a lot and am fascinated by all types of government. (Fascinated and often horrified). I’m certainly a novice, though, which is why I enjoy the reads over here. I’ll be lurking around again! Love, Sistah J

  2. You chose the line I love best. Sis! I’m so happy to have you back – missed you big time.

    If you know ANYTHING about Canadian government and politics, you likely know not only more than the average American, but more than the average damned Canadian!

    Love ya, see ya soon.

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