There's a hush—a stillness—
that muffles the groundswell,
as flurries flutter and whiteness
blankets our sleep. We weep
for truth, its heartbreaking loss
akin to a missing dog from our youth.
Our boots etch fractals in fresh powder
and we search our neighbor's eyes
for a sign—hoping we are still
on the same side.
"First Snow After the Election" was first published in 2016 in Writer's Resist.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem