Produced by Dennis Camire
This week’s poem is by David A. Conary of Bryant Pond.
The Colding
By David A. Conary
Gnarled branches, clutching, seeking any heat,
Stark-webbed across a grayling dawn;
What sky I saw was glacial . . . summer gone . . .
Reflecting only winter at its feet.
And nothing moved. Gray mice and moles beneath the snow
All huddled, grasping any warmth they could
To keep the virgin hearts alive. Throughout the wood
The hoary breath of chickadees hung low
Around the birds, like misty shields against the cold.
By noon the day was old.
Dennis Camire can be reached at dcamire@cmcc.edu
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