A Bite

Snow on a March day,

little women meet.

The smell of sugar

hangs suspended there.

Conversational

slush: they start to eat.

A maple log cracks

into pieces there.

Mundane messages:

They don’t know defeat.

Drifting like snowflakes,

heavy with rain there.

The group, patient,

waits for her to eat.

She thinks of that ‘home’

far away from there.

All delicacy,

safety, here, in sheets.

Relax now, fear not-

she takes a bite there.

 

 

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2 responses to “A Bite

    • Thanks! The photos were so lucky. It really did snow in late March in Seattle, then it rained and then it was 75 degrees and sunny. It was a strange day to say the least and my poem is my literary interpretation of it all!

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