Found in Willow Springs 88
Snow fell on the mountains and the towns that faced them, on the interstate and the creek running beside. Snow swirled against the gray sky and gray cement, dizzy with so much falling. Someone woke the silver machines who of course remembered their task. No one broke the dream. And the four of us—so far apart, thousands of miles—could never reach each other in time. So we lit a single light in our bones. Like hope.
I have long admired Kathy’s poetic style and this poem, like most of her others, leaves me a little breathless. This is such a fine poem.