Snow Twigs

IMG_3887 copy.jpg





That’s our name for them, the hundreds of them

fallen onto the snowcrust


from the great trees that arch our house:

Chinese scroll poems


crows and grackles walk among,

eating ice crystals. Or sometimes


they seem like scragglers from a tiny beaten army

caught in a white montage. Low morning sun


casts their shadows into one another,

they become wedged


in a place there’s no returning from;

the wind twists them oddly. Many


lie half-buried. Others form little bridges

going nowhere to nowhere. A few are gathered


in a snarl of dead leaves. Our backyard stone fence

is scattered with them all along its length


as if they tried to conquer it and fell

on its ramparts of purpose. Yet, if living


and the snow was white moss,

in its whorled drift under our ivy trelllis,


that one, or those off by themselves—sepia, lacy, delicate—

could almost be flowers.


-Dick Allen

                                                                      first published in Pivot #45






Categories: Poems & PhotosTags: , , , , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: