The sky falls
In linen sheets.
Ivory muslin
Lines the streets.
Cars recede
Into garages.
People flee
Within their lodges.
The fire burns,
-As does the candle.
Family's read
And muse to Handel.
Pines swoon...
Limbs reclining.
They nearly touch
The powdered lining.
This winter's quest,
We must remember,
This time of rest,
In late December.
(1994)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Refreshing poem about winter. Funny, with the heat swooning and building up for a summer's day, I am here inside experiencing what people do in an oncoming winter storm.