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More poems by Linda PastanLinda Pastan | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments | Books by Linda PastanBooks by Linda Pastan

Wind Chill

Linda Pastan

The door of winter
is frozen shut, 

and like the bodies
of long extinct animals, cars 

lie abandoned wherever
the cold road has taken them. 

How ceremonious snow is,
with what quiet severity 

it turns even death to a formal
arrangement. 

Alone at my window, I listen
to the wind, 

to the small leaves clicking
in their coffins of ice. 

Added: 2 Mar 2002 | Last Read: 22 Sep 2018 2:25 PM | Viewed: 5653 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/3209/ | Viewed on 22 September 2018.
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