Photo by Fabrice Villard via Unsplash




A woman writes a line in the snow
and leaves. Nothing else is new
in that quiet field.
Large snowflakes seal in her words,
an envelope, closing.
Next summer, she won’t remember
what she has written, or why.
In the wake of retreating steps, silence
keeps the truth whole.


First published in Not Very Quiet, Issue 2, March 2018

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