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.
Credit
Copyright © 2017 by Jill Osier. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on December 8, 2017, by the Academy of American Poets.
About this Poem
"In New Hampshire in 2015 the snow just kept on coming. It was how winter seemed as a kid—and still seems: endless and generous and companionable. The poem is one of a series I think of as pelvis studies."
—Jill Osier
Author
Jill Osier
Jill Osier’s chapbook from won the Poetry Society of America’s 2017 Alice Fay Di Castagnola Award.
Date Published
12/08/2017