On Poetry

Ironically, I had forgotten I had read this Arthur Sze’s poem Snow. It had melted away with me from memory. Then there it was again, how like snow. That last line, crystalline, the entire poem ethereal reappears in my mind. Inspiring as a spring in her shroud.
It's a lovely poem, isn't it? He creates the sense of snow...the way it stills and obliterates one's world...and then with that final image melts it away. And he only uses the word snow once and only one direct image about it. Brilliant.

We had a big snowstorm in my neck of the woods last night into this morning so I'm really feeling this poem today lol.
 
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