WINTER WOODS by Michael S. Lewis-Beck
Breath cold, full moon behind a gray veil,
the tree tops map the moon.
Three pairs of socks, through my boots
my toes are still cold.
Three hours of hard wood in the Vermont casting
lifts the cabin from 13 to 38.
Vegetable soup and a bottle of Gigondas,
read Frost by bed candle.
Sleep to wind in high trees.
6
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Editing: Example #2 « Albatross Poetry Journal said,
October 14, 2008 at 12:03 am
[…] the author agreed to the changes. This poem will appear in Albatross #20. I will also post the edited version of the poem as a “featured poem” entry of this […]