February Elegy

This entry is part 16 of 28 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Winter 2014-15


Sparse snow that falls and falling,
leaves on my dark sleeves the lightest imprint
of stars— how long would I need to stand

in its fickle weave to make
a white scarf wide enough
to cover my head, this grief?


In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

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