28 February 2022 (squeak)
Kristen Lindquist
the squeak of snow
underfoot
woodchucks asleep
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BOOK OF DAYS: A POET AND NATURALIST TRIES TO FIND POETRY IN EVERY DAY
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the squeak of snow
underfoot
woodchucks asleep
Ducktrap River
deer tracks in snow lead me
to open water
all day snow
my neighbor’s window lit up
by a pride flag
one year already . . .
flowers left in falling snow
for the boy lost
on hold
for customer service . . .
first leaf buds
paired chickadees
the intermittent whispers
of melting bog ice
first vulture of spring . . .
imagining the past lives
of this old pine
Near the summit of Mount Battie, Camden Hills State Park, 2.21.22
half-asleep
watching more snow fall
mid-life birthday
half-grown tree farm
a rusting horse trailer
at field’s edge
a long letter
from the new widow
hunger moon