How I Learned to Love the Bomb Cyclone

The Shape of Snow

Needlepoint of snow in the streetlight
cross stitches in the gusting wind.

Cars begin to disappear, the nearby elms
fade in the distance.

By the shore, four sharks roll up,
bone dead, though a dog learns
to amuse himself with a hill and a sled.

Warm inside, a fire rages like twin sisters,
one blond tresses, the other red-headed.

The fire in the fireplace begins to die.
“I’ll always love you!” shouts the child.

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One Response to How I Learned to Love the Bomb Cyclone

  1. Vladimir says:

    Great image of “disappearing” cars. That’s what they do in the storm, fade away into the snow. And kid’s emotions are right on the money. Everything unusual can trigger their love.

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