Some of these are kinda poems.
1.
We, the walkers through snow,
yeah, we smile at each other.
2.
When light rain falls onto snow, it can be heard but not seen. Just a kind of hum, or a crackle. Static-y. It doesn't patter. It's a consistent sound, that doesn't pulse and doesn't fluctuate in pitch. It's as if silence is actually a noise, but one we normally don't hear because it's played so low, but now the volume has just been turned up: a kind of nothingness noise, all around. It makes me think there is some large spirit suspended in the air, the god of Medford maybe, saying "shhhh", or maybe he's just really tired.
3.
Every now and then
a little abandoned glove.
"How does this happen?"
4. A variation on a theme of Zach Weichbrodt's
Slush, slush, slush, slush, slush, slush, slush, slush, slush, slush, slush, slush, slush, slush, slush, slush, slush, slush, slush, slush, slush, slush.
5.
A person has walked here, going that way.
Several people have walked over there.
A few people walked here a while ago.
Nobody has walked here recently.
A person has walked here.
A car went through here.
Lots and lots of people go that way.
OH SHIT A DOG HAS BEEN HERE. PAW PRINTS. DOGGIE DOGGIE!!!
4 comments:
Number 5 is literally what goes through my head every time I walk through snow.
a) HAIKU WIN.
b) I read each 'slush' aloud, reverently.
b) oh shit, a dog has been here/and now/oh, a dog shit is here.
Numbers 1 and 3 made me laugh a lot a lot.
i thought about that glove and feared that i might someday lose one of my gloves and what the circumstances might be.
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