School Days

I can’t write about Ohio,

no matter how hard I try to capture

roads flatter than sky and the grey

ache-chime of day fade—

it won’t come.

Or the snow-drift blue afternoons

supporting brick buildings

to the seamless sills of windows;

snow sips, nibbles at glass,

at toes, at noses redder than stop

signs. I can’t remember

the reservoir, round and round,

around the rim, stone silt

and bulrush breezes, oak trees taller

than chapel bells, in the branches

and the woody pages, an opening.

Thoughts? Tell us.
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