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Winter Tales
Snow White has put on her grey sludge dress,
turning from princess to drudge overnight,
She is a pidgin that takes its ill-fed feathers
to brighter patches of sky
seeking less frozen crumbs.
Roads have curbs of dark pack-ice,
we drive our carriages,
pink-eyed and just whiskers away
from a shivering daydream.
Horsepower pulls us through
to an evening that mimics the gray
face of the day.
Let it rain, let it splash this chill air
to dry, Spanish hills.
Ohio for now, has put its fairy tales away,
in sports bars we drink
until mugs slide between drowsy lips
as easy as slippers of glass.
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
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