View thru my front window again (picture taken last year; this time they thundered past in the middle of the night). No plow here (it just preceded), but I'm reminded of a rare memorable poem by rob mclennan:
snow. plow.
love, I compare you instead
/a snowplow not a summers day
completely unaware
of the cars you've set to burying
scraping fenceposts & fire hydrants
-- the long clear path
for everyone behind you
wham bam, the radio quotes 20cm
my body becomes ice
1 comment:
rare? ah well.
rob
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