Sunday, November 13, 2022

A Patch of Old Snow

There’s a patch of old snow in a corner
That I should have guessed
Was a blow-away paper the rain
Had brought to rest.

It is speckled with grime as if
Small print overspread it,
The news of a day I’ve forgotten–
If I ever read it.

by Robert Frost

at
Labels: ,

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Attack of the Squash People

And thus the people every year in the valley of humid July did sacrifice themselves to the long green phallic god and eat and eat and eat. T...

  • An Old-Fashioned Garden
    Strange, is it not? She was making her garden, Planting the old-fashioned flowers that day— Bleeding-hearts tender and bachelors-buttons— Sp...
  • And You As Well Must Die, Beloved Dust
    And you as well must die, beloved dust, And all your beauty stand you in no stead; This flawless, vital hand, this perfect head, This body o...
  • An Abortion
    Do not bathe her in blood, the little one whose sex is undermined, she drops leafy across the belly of black sky and her abyss has not that ...