snow.
A year
in which
each day
brings one
tenth inch.
First the
window sills
are covered
then door
jambs. Our
lips are
sealed then
our eyes
shut. Sleep
like this
we've never
known. Will
Spring return?
Unknown. We
care not.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a good write about the snow