It snowed all day today, a fine and soft snow. Bit by bit, the paw prints and hoof marks filled back in and the pasture began to look pristine again. The past week’s treks up and down to the pole barn and round and about the big barn slowly vanished, as though the week’s labors had somehow been magically erased away. In the few hours of weak daylight, even the bare trees have have a stark beauty. The landscape, empty of color, cleanses my soul.
At the Beginning of Winter by Tom Hennen
In the shallows of the river
After one o’clock in the afternoon
An eighth of an inch thick.
Night never disappears completely
But moves among the shadows
On the bank
Like a glimpse of fur.
Flies and spiderwebs
Appear alone in the flat air.
The naked aspens stand like children
Waiting to be baptized
And the goldenrod too is stripped down
To its bare stalk
In the cold
Even my thoughts
Have lost their foliage.