January 1984


skis rasp on the snow


drowning out calling birds


falling silhouettes of white

backed by a drop cloth

of living green

of red

where the fall

has been frozen

by premature cold


moving at all

starts another shakedown

as flakes

temporarily indisposed

to touch the earth

are jarred

from their cedar berth

to follow with wild abandon

the way of autumn leaves

when the tendrils

of the ice clad mistress

first tickle the winds

in the seasons square dance

on the earth


Skis Rasp on the Snow
A poem by Peter Rhebergen

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