After days down freeways
I come home to frosty woodsides
Where a night of snow
Has graced every surface,
I can breathe again gazing at clouds-
I feel the fast life of salaries & carshine
Interrogating this hidden quiet way
But I too sift like fresh snow
Through the aimless shank & swirl
To trace the tiny ledges of the unlatched gate
wow, craig. this is a great poem. you are very observant and the best is that you can turn that into a great asset. this poem shows that potential. keep up the great work. i write both good and some lousy poems. i hope you find the best ones of mine. see you and a prosperous new year to u.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice, Craig, particularly the keen observation of the restorative nature of home. Evokes a sense of peace that is palpable. Don