Hello Winter, hello flanneled <br />blanket of clouds, clouds <br />fueled by more clouds, hello again. <br /> <br />Hello afternoons, <br />off to the west, that silver <br />of sunset, rust-colored <br />and gone too soon. <br /> <br />And night (I admit to a short memory) <br />you climb back in with chilly fingers <br />and clocks, and there is no refusal: <br />ice cracks the water main, the garden hose <br />stiffens, the bladed leaves of the rhododendron <br />shine in the fog of a huge moon. <br /> <br />And rain, street lacquer, <br />oily puddles and spinning rubber, <br />mist of angels on the head of a pin, <br />hello, <br /> <br />and snow, upside-down cake of clouds, <br />white, freon scent, you build <br />even as you empty the world of texture- <br />hello to this new relief, <br />this new solitude now upon us, <br />upon which we feed.<br /><br />Mark Svenvold<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/relearning-winter/
