Consciousness, Literature and the Arts
Archive
Volume 13 Number 1, April 2012
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HOARFROST
I’m sure it’s nothing personal
not some sarcastic response by nature
but despite everything this January in Winnipeg
has dressed our urban forest in hoarfrost
tops of trees glimmer in the morning light
as if to say that during days of misery
beauty still claims its rank in the order
that we do not get the larger context
nor the flow of the real. If we could
only learn to read the language of things
come to the resting place of what happens
hoarfrost in January would also feel like home