William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Winter Walk

Was it the childhood study of bird tracks that first led him to writing,

Or the sacred marks his mother made in her crusts and loaves?

And then there was the night sky, with its patient verse of constellations.

It might have been those. Whatever it meant to be alone . . .

He loved it well and tried to write just like them. Then it snowed . . . .


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Categories: New Poems & Pieces

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