The woods are silent in a winter sleep.
Snowflakes gather in a great hush,
Pale notes heaped quietly one upon another
And gently.
Empty aspen pencil blue shadows
In stripes between streaks of sun.
Blue and gold, blue and gold,
Like some new flag.
I am the alien here,
Crashing through the crust of snow
And singing the air full of frozen sound waves.
They will thaw in the spring for the birds.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lush description. This is when you are most like Bishop. -LP