A Golden Shovel Poem
by Vaughn Neeld
“Bone-Pale, the recent snow fastens like fur to the river.”
from Early December in Croton-on-Hudson, by Louise Glück
Along the path, bare-bone
trees lift naked limbs to the winter-pale
sky as I walk rapidly toward the
cabin hunkered beneath a covering of recent,
shadowed, blue-gray snow.
Misty drizzle creates icy fingers fastened
on gray-green junipers like
dangling tinsel. A chill breeze ruffles the fur
of rabbits and squirrels huddled in secret places to
spare, or share, warmth held close to the
skin as ice crystalizes and spreads over the river.