"Every
heart writes a different letter
of winter to its cold.
Icicles on sheet
metal, bucket frozen in the well.
Once there was no language
for the weather, just The sky is low and birdless;
or The sky is a box of wings."
heart writes a different letter
of winter to its cold.
Icicles on sheet
metal, bucket frozen in the well.
Once there was no language
for the weather, just The sky is low and birdless;
or The sky is a box of wings."
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Inspiration!
She’s the First Poetry Anthology is accepting submissions. Submit your poem today and #VoiceYourVerse! 100% of proceeds from the anthology will go to girls’ education.
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