A Winter Without Snow by Bruce Guernsey

A Winter Without Snow

In a winter without snow
how do we know the deer
have crossed the hard fields at night?

In a winter without snow
there’s no white to glaze the sun,
gray on the hill at dawn—

no steam from the ice, no
sign of the stream underneath.
No hush in the woods, only the bone

rattle of branches as the cold
winds rises, the skeletal
clicking of sticks.

by Bruce Guernsey

Editor’s Note: Spare yet vivid imagery sets the tone for the narrator’s relationship with nature in this poem.

One thought on “A Winter Without Snow by Bruce Guernsey

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.