[Driving to Town Late to Mail a Letter
It is a cold and snowy night. The main street is deserted.
The only things moving are swirls of snow.
As I lift the mailbox door, I feel its cold iron.
There is a privacy I love in this snowy night.
Driving around, I will waste more time.] Robert Bly
Heavy Snow by Dana Stone
We had a deep snow by morning,
blanketed everything around us.
Every limb and twig, etched in white like frosting
Thick sheets on the roof of the barn
frozen in time,
stillness beckoning me forward,
holding a pail,
overflowing with oats
for mare her newborn colt
waiting for me in the shadows.