SNOW LIGHT IS THE TRUE LIGHT by Martha Webster

/ / Issue 16, Poetry, Uncategorized

Riga Mountain trail, 
our last hike before the blizzard.

The hawk we spooked
is perched across the pond—

a scent of snow
hangs heavy in the air.

The rabbit’s eye is big
and berry-bright,
lucid as a black marble.

He looks untouched
except his skull—
an open, red
pomegranate.

No clotting yet.

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