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In Winter

March 3, 2011

IN WINTER

Our unbound, unchecked words still whirl about
like dry snowflakes on a windy night
to settle (if they do anywhere)
within the shadows of your jacket’s
momentary folds, or they alight
briefly in your hair.

I could have memorized them there,
instead of this picture that I keep
pinned above my window (outside
the streetlight fals through brittle air).
But I imagine, looking deep
into its single side

there must be more than this, that I forgot
or never knew. Even now
while I am staring, while I grope
for the right words, the wind says what
I want to say—that it, too, needs the snow
to give its image shape.
__________________________

© David Hirzel 1985
first published in Cumberland Poetry Review

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