A Light Dusting

That winter evening
the soft lights in the village
dyed the sky pink
while in our yard we stood with snow
creeping into our ankle boots.
She held my hand
in front of her face
comparing the rose of my nail beds
to the sky.  Light Pollution.
Her voice was barely audible.
As I watched
her face, I felt the words
                  puffs of warm, wet air
on my knuckles.  They dried,
and the air took on a biting chill.
I had to look away, to the woods
that inch inward every year
upon our little yard; now
                    they are so far away
in the growing dusk with drifting snow
floating between us.

3 Comments

Filed under poetry, Uncategorized

3 responses to “A Light Dusting

  1. This is beautiful. The idea of light pollution, a sense of disconnection with nature, with each other, some beautiful images here, too – in particular, “the rose of my nail beds
    to the sky,” and “the woods that inch inward every year upon our little yard.” Interesting that the woods inch nearer every year, but at this moment they are unreachable in their distance…

    A little suggestion, if you don’t mind: I think you could cut the line “They dried,
    and the air took on a biting chill” without losing any meaning. It just isn’t as poetic as the rest of the poem; seems more explanatory than anything. Hope you don’t mind that little critique. 🙂

    I really like your poetry!

  2. Thanks Twitches. I think I’ll test out your critique.

  3. great poem, you creatd a scene and a mood I didn’t want to leave.

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