By Guest Poet Tony Vowles
A whole city adrift
and we become washerwomen;
fretting and gossiping, running and jumping,
talking to neighbours and shovelling.
As the church of snow hymns
across the rickety divides,
levelling its white thud.
And it moves me, the peace of it,
the promethean warmth.
Like a smile from a stranger.
© 2010 by Tony VowlesAll Rights Reservedtheastrologyblog.com
Photo Credit: Woman Shoveling © Andrew Jalbert | Dreamstime.com
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