Snow

my poems keep coming back, but I still try !

My house of snow

has fallen moons

in its garden.

All these frozen curves

and mounds are

a white woman sleeping.

A swan lifts heavily

over quiet water.

For a moment, all is still.

Then we become those

we have lost

and live their borrowed lives.

Reviews

[Einstein Noodle]

brilliant says i ... a swan's song but so much more ...just the right touch of this and dab of that Leslie! its the stillness i covet ... winter along with all the discomforts gives us softness, curves and sublime moments .. your poem captures a lot .. enjoyed the experience quite a lot sir!
E.