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Ice Storm By Nancy A. Henry I walk among them too cold to sleep For the first time in my long years here Sweet years in this country place, Not a light in fifty miles Except the moon and these cold ethereal torches Through the orchard, through the back field. Trees encased in mercury, Deceptively lovely in the moonlight. Bending over, they are agonizing Within their glass capsules, Their multiple silver arms Creaking inaudibly to the point of strain For a long stretch it is still as death The eerie, airless landscape of another world. I take a careful step, the sound comes, The earsplitting crack. The door-slam of a rageful lover Shattering with the trust, the bright illusion, Showering the midnight with it's glittering shards. Another birch to take down in the spring Another companion Lost. |
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Document last modified on: 02/17/2003