Snowbound by John Grey

Snow falls,

we are cast off from friends

and neighbors,

skin blue,

our boots too deep

for forward progress.

 

A wind-slapped hermitage begins

with hands rubbing,

eyes watering,

breath lingering on the lips

like fog.

 

Winter dates count down,

take daylight with them,

until they most resemble graves.

 

We are both the mourners

and the dead.

 

About the Poet:

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Sheepshead Review, Stand, Washington Square Review and Floyd County Moonshine. Latest books, “Covert” “Memory Outside The Head” and “Guest Of Myself” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in the McNeese Review, Santa Fe Literary Review and Open Ceilings.