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* * *
White mountain: not a pine
to draw the eye, as fire by night
draws, no owl to rouse the ear.
White sky: it begins
where the mountain ends, or
vise versa, not easy in the mind.
If now a man passed by,
or now, he would pass
no wiser, or only little:
his eye has noticed nothing,
his ear, and how tiny a wisdom
these flakes impart to his skin.
© Derk Wynand
© E-magazine LiterNet, 14.12.2005, № 12 (73)
Derk Wynand. Snowscapes. Sono Nis Press, 1974.