Country Detail
All the snow that ever could has fallen.
You should have seen the snow-broken trees! Power
was out almost all day. I had to take buckets
to the pond for water. I thought our geese
decided to come because of my snow shoes,
but they trailed way behind, refused my tracks,
made their own. They let the dog go scout
downfield before they came in stately waddle.
Elegant gray against the blinding white,
silent and proud on orange tender paddles.
They were too bright, too well-defined, too real
for the wild blizzard-buried woods and fields.
One full bucket I drew out they sampled,
then daintily descended to the brook
and dabbled down for roots. They turned to breast
the stream, and for a moment the world was
two gray geese, a black brook, and a pond of snow.
The Worcester Review, Spring 1985