Friday, January 21, 2011

Poetry Friday: The Snow Edition


Evelyn Scott (1893-1963)

Black brooms of trees sweep the sky clean;
Sweep the house fronts,
And heave them bleak in sleep.
High up the empty moon
Spills her vacuity.

I dance.
My long black shadow
Weaves an invisible pattern of pain.
The snow
Is embroidered with my happiness.

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