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Fear of Renewal

Text of Poem

Snow rotted at the sun’s touch,
sloughed into dirty gutters,
slid from the bank where summer
had bedded down in long grass,
caught time’s disease for change
and disappeared among dead stalks
into memory’s roots. A green signal
made hearts jump, people danced
in the streets of their hopes,
saw mountains move like clouds
and counted on the promise they
inherit. Like an old woodpecker
I stayed in my tree to peek out
at the sound of hoarse-voiced wishes,
wise with the wisdom of many seasons,
glad in such crazy company to be lost
in loneliness of the mind’s winter.

First Line
Snow rotted at the sun's touch,
Original Pub Location
Original Publication Date
Original Citation
Chicago Tribune Magazine (1 Dec. 1968) 16.
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