Anything but white


Screech owl at dawn
& a great-horned owl at dusk.
All day long, just words.


Skid marks where a rabbit
slid into the ditch at dawn—
no shadows then.


Marooned in the snow,
the old whitewashed springhouse
is anything but white.


Where deer once stepped,
dinner-plate-sized craters
brimming with new snow.


old footprints

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