OPTIONAL POETRY

The bend of a bird’s wing seemed so sharp, the guttural scrape of the snowplow clearing the road, but it couldn’t keep up with the sky and its act of forgetting, these relentless rounded edges, forgiving all, and always– The last snow walk before the drive back it was blowing down, so that the path erased itself, became new with every step and it was hard to return, to leave the banks that softened hard […]