Thought Wheel

From the mind of Ann Chiappetta

For The First Snow Fall

| Filed under Poem

Snow Plow
Prismatic chips clatter against glass frames
wind-driven, opaque collections
heaped to infinity.
Blacktop and tarmac await the scrape
As Gea tucks in sleepy grassesWith frosty, hibernate hands.
Metal dentures rumble past
Steel maw cleaves the twilight
Rows of white topped ground unmasked.
Ann Chiappetta © 1994

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *