Taking the Dogs Out One Night After a Snowstorm
The dogs a brown blur against blinding
white barely visible ridges and striations
Patterns of falling and wind-riddance
the shapeless back yard a single unique
print of the storm’s finger but nothing
weighing in as evidence more so
than my daughter’s bright red jacket
so lively against this erasure
like my love for that life and
everything that came before it
and the blue of the twilight
and the black of what follows
Oh, may I write just one poem with so much raw power! That would be glory enough for me.
Ron