Friday, February 09, 2007


This white silence comes each time
in its own blank moment of awe:

you think, in that instant before
you turn away cursing the climate

to dig out your leaky boots
so you can dig out your car,

before you ask what the odds are
of surviving the afternoon commute,

before you decide to be dutiful
and brave it and your heart sinks

into the grimy slush, you think,
“Oh. Look. Beautiful.”


Minx said...

I would like to be looking at 'beautiful'right now, but at present I am trying to keep the rain from washing away the house. Anyone got a spare Ark?

John said...

No ark, but plenty of hot soup...

Roberta said...

This looks like my front yard!

Ha! Leaking boots...yes, I have said "How Beautiful!" ..then sworn as I stepped out into the cold.

Mistress of a Mapless Realm said...

I had a friend who professed to have spent a Saturday afternoon(after drinking with the evil clowns) walking the city streets adorning all the dogshit he could see with whipcream and a cherry---the Bukowskian version of the moment of awe.

I knew this was in you, its heartening to see: "Oh. Look. Beautiful." You inspire.