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Michael L. Kiella
We expected the storm, it arrived to bully things that flap and
twist and tumble in the wind; we found morning fields and hedges
in new snow and the blue sky which only cold can make.
a crystal cyclone
A girl from two streets over came and shoveled the path. I don't
really know what caused her to do this kindness without hire. I
know her by name: Nicole, is it the cold on your face that helps
you move my snowdrifts? If that is true, then I am thankful for
cold and snowdrifts, both.
Near the house, where the twisting of snow can't go, or won't go;
where bare earth separates snowdrift from basement wall, I see a
finch that won't fly. We look too long at each other. Did she
come here to find me; and speak with black eyes? I saw her speak
to me. I only think of this now in afternoon when I return to that
place by the basement wall, it is there that I find my failure.