Tears

grasses snow

When clouds reach down to touch the trees,
Their sides snag on tree branches
Dragging against edges until —
Tear, rip, torn —
They spill onto the fields.
Snow drifts against the hedgerows.

© rjn, January 11, 2018

Quick notes on the poem: this was written after watching grey clouds race low across the sky, then seem to struggle in the trees on top of a hill. In the struggle, they dumped snow in an abrupt misty downpour. By the end, the clouds had disappeared into the other clouds above them. All that was left was a fine grit of snow over everything.

If I were a cartoonist, I would have drawn the snow squall as cloud ghosts who were wringing their hands and wailing, while the edges of their wrappings got tangled in the branches.


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