After The Blizzard

By Dorthy LaVern McCarthy

I do not know who trimmed the woods
in crystal blizzard lace
and made the jags of ice hang down
from all the eaves in town.
I do not know who put the moon
half-heartedly in last night's sky,
but its reflection is frozen, still,
in the stream beyond the northern hill
where blackbirds fly.


Published on November 1st, 2022




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