The Morning After the Ice Storm On the Day After the Snow Storm
My children walk on the foot-high snow leaving no prints
I remember doing that the feeling of not falling through
of being lighter than snow I remember the days I was sure
I would never leave any prints that I could walk
on the surface of the world and leave no trace
then are the days where you feel you are nothing but prints
Nothing but traces and paths and trails and then the days
you wake up to another death and your son
is reading how it took two hundred million years
for trees to develop leaves and
then you are back to leaving no prints
The way I feel before reading one of your new poems is just the way I felt on Christmas morning when I was a boy about to unwrap packages Santa had left. Oh, the mystery and magic! Superb, Jeff! 🙂
Ron, thanks so much, man.
damn fine poem!