The Thaw Poem by Jane Brunton
The Thaw
Overhead-passes spit contemptuously at passing cars.
Power lines emerge from dripping silver cocoons.
Black bark peeks through the ice like worn silver plate.
Pine trees, released of their white cargo lift up their arms like schoolboys at recess.
Winter’s dirty secrets are revealed.
February 2003
Thursday, May 25, 2006
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4/24/2024 2:55:23 AM # 1.0.0.1119
