Say Winter Without Saying White

Snow covers the beach
and drifts over dunes 
like a ghost sail. It falls
without a sound, 
without an echo—
shapeshifting summoner
that locks hundreds 
of travelers for hours in 
their cars, on the black 
ice stretch of highways 
from south to north. 
Even in this world, light 
can have a thousand 
names. Cypress and pine 
and fir link arms, 
reminding me of green.  


 

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