Curtains drawn, I hear the storm walk on
the ground my friend that embraced my friends
and reaches far where the north wind moves
in ultimate light while grains of snow
sift spears of grass. I hear
more—yesterday. Miles of gray
press against this glass.
Did you enjoy the the artible “This Room When Winter Comes” from William Stafford on OZOFE.COM? Do you know anyone who could enjoy it as much as you do? If so, don't hesitate to share this post to them and your other beloved ones.
Leave a Reply