Snow in the Suburbs Every branch big with it, Bent every twig with it; Every street and pavement mute: Some flakes have lost their way, and grope back upward, when Meeting those meandering down they turn and descend again. The palings are glued together like a wall, And there is no waft of wind with the fleecy fall. A sparrow enters the tree Whereon immediately A snow-lump thrice his own slight size Descends on him and showers his head and eyes. And overturns him And near inurns him And lights on a nether twig, when its brush Starts off a volley of other lodging lumps with a rush. The steps are a blanched slope, Up which, with feeble hope, A black cat comes, wide-eyed and thin And we take him in.
Posted on: Sat, 14 Sep 2013 20:05:51 +0000
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