Thaw

This entry is part 26 of 91 in the series Toward Noon: 3verses

Having melted the snow above it,
a black stone glistens
in its pit.

All thaws seem abrupt.
Lichens slicked with meltwater
glow a lurid green.

I’m feverish—might I, too,
burn a hole
clear through to spring?

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8 Comments


  1. For what it’s worth, I see that this is the sixth post titled “Thaw” at Via Negativa; Luisa and I have now each written three posts with that title. It’s just a good word, I guess.

    Reply

    1. Oh good! And I seem to be on the upswing now, so probably today’s effort won’t be as inadvertently inspired.

      Reply

  2. This is outstanding. Fever so often produces great poems – but I hope you’ll soon be well.

    Reply

    1. Thanks! I am definitely on the mend now. I’m glad I run low fevers, actually. My mom doesn’t, and her colds last twice as long.

      Reply

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