Centennial Fountain (1967) by Ray Jacobson at Carleton College

One of the great things about having poet friends is that sometimes you get to see brand new poems as they are created. These surprises are especially welcome during the long winter months, when the blue shadows weigh heavily, if beautifully, on us. Here in Minnesota, we have been experiencing record-breaking snows. In February, alone, we have already been gifted with more than 30 inches of new snow, and the month is not quite complete.

Given this, you can imagine my delight when yesterday I received a newly drafted poem, via the miracle of email, from Emilio DeGrazia, a poet friend from Winona, Minnesota who wrested something beautiful from the double white blankness of the fresh page and the fresh drifts of snow. He noted:

“Here’s one I wrote after look out the window today, a smallish thing.”

And then he agreed that I could share it with you.  

BLIZZARD
 
The snowstorm drives ghost sails
Over the winter of our discontent.
Drifts huddle in ditches
And find refuge against walls.
Nothing is written on the vast page
Of deep snow in the fields.
White, having its way, dominates,
Provides a clean coverup.
 
We curl in to keep warm
And allow our hearts to feast
On the contours of cold purity,
The resurrection of beauty and depth
And burial of the trivial.

Emilio DeGrazia

Thank you, Emilio! Leslie