Thursday, January 8, 2015
Snow Dance
Rating: ★3.5
Black brooms of trees sweep the sky clean;
Sweep the house fronts,
And heave them bleak in sleep.
High up the empty moon
Spills her vacuity.
I dance.
My long black shadow
Weaves an invisible pattern of pain.
The snow
Is embroidered with my happiness.
Evelyn Scott
Topic(s) of this poem: snow