“You cause the wind to blow and snow to fall,” Michael M. Cohen, A Letter
From America
At a powdery trailhead
we strap on snowshoes,
tramp past a wooden lean-to.
Flakes settle like gnome hats
atop fungi sprouting
from birch, our own
black caps camouflaged
white. High among the treetops
a call and response, perhaps
a warning or a challenge.
The distant hymnal hum
of wind and river.
Niveous shawls cloak
bridges and brooks.
Flimsily blanketed conifers,
leafless poplars—clustered,
block the chill.
Mount Horrid looms,
moosewoods stand guard.
A dip in the forest
and a hand painted sign—
Bloodroot Gap. We pause
for water, orange slices,
bits of cheese.
Dusk approaches.
Through a flurry
we retrace our steps.
The earth—downy
soft and silent.
Laurie Rosen is a lifelong New Englander. Her poems have appeared in Sisyphus, The Muddy River Poetry Review, Beach Reads-an anthology from Third Street Writers, Peregrine, Oddball Magazine, and other journals.
