The Snow (Stands to My Waist), (Like) Me (Falls Still)
Winter, friend, I get it. We are having a long talk
and have just gotten into the thick of it.
Days ago the signs were there.
I was the only thing dark and moving
through the white woods, and my leg kept leaving me
small grey commas of ice seen coming back.
This is a very long talk we’ve been having. My body already knew
and began to make an important list.
Copyright © 2017 by Jill Osier. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on December 8, 2017, by the Academy of American Poets.