Profile (The Country Road in January) / Phillip Neal Tippin
The weight of lain thought lies thick upon the land where
That winter field can no longer rise fresh faced and bare
As it once did in scaped snow line, stubbled geese huddle,
Along this road long rode by other eyes, cold, wet, old, lithe,
Cares admixed with the joys of cluttered days, stacks of vision
Pile, plaque the field where I once saw open folds to alight—
Profile (The Country Road in January): Copyright 2022 by Phillip Tippin. All rights reserved. This poem was originally published in Clearing Paths.
darklybrightpress.com 