Today's poem is by Karina Borowicz
In Its Body
The snow taps a pattern
on my skin. I always think of snow
as a living thing,
have always believed in its body,
that snow's silence is its own choosing.
The breath of snow.
Inaudible, but so is the breath of any wildness
to our ears.
This is the first day it has dared come so close
in a long time, and I'm not afraid.
Copyright © 2015 Karina Borowicz All rights reserved
from Copper Nickel
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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