(First) Snow Becoming Light by Morning

In case you sit across from the meteorologist tonight,
and in case the dim light over the booth in the bar still shines
almost planetary on your large, smooth, winter-softened
forehead, in case all of the day—its woods and play, its fire—
has stayed on your beard, and will stay through the slight
drift of mouth, the slackening of even your heart’s muscle—
. . . well. I am filled with snow. There’s nothing to do now
but wait.
Jill Osier

2 thoughts on “(First) Snow Becoming Light by Morning

  1. Hi Amy, I came across your site while googling this Jill Osier poem. What do you think it’s about? It has a lovely quiet (sad?) voice. I don’t know exactly why, but I love the photo you paired it with…the road leading off and beyond the darkness of the woods.

    I hope you don’t mind that I nosed around your site a bit..reading the poems, photos and sensitive observations about things.

    thank you!


    • I don’t mind at all, Krista! And yes, I feel the Osier poem is quiet, and just a little wry in the turn of phrase about the weather. Thank you for stopping by and commenting.

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