The Gravity of Snow
Drifts slide over
their white-weight,
the heaps are their own snow-plows.
Mounds are erased and remodeled
by a laboring wind.
When the world is a white-out
perception forgets color,
the departed draw nearer.
Graveyard trees
creak,
heavy the waiting
of the gone away,
their ghostly tread
descending
to be invisible once more
under stone heads.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
