[stylist] Poem for a winter's night

[Barbara Hammel]

I'm guessing those were hints at an illness and passing away?  It's such a 
delicate way of saying what's going on.  I really like this poem although 
the turkeys threw me a bit.
Barbara




Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance. -- Carl Sandburg
-----Original Message----- 
From: Lynda Lambert
Sent: Monday, February 06, 2012 5:20 PM
To: Writer's Division Mailing List
Subject: [stylist] Poem for a winter's night

I was looking back through some poems today.
I found this one. I forgot I had written it. I am sending it out for you to 
read tonight. I felt like sharing it.

Poem: the Final Frost


My brother sifts through old photographs

Beyond the shadows of a cold April night

His fingertips glow like red neon

As he holds each one up to the light

I watch him laugh

>From a leather chair

We wait patiently between glass walls

This night more quiet than  sleeping turkeys

Settling onto thin black branches

High above the forest floor

My brother begins to close his eyes

Doesn't want to see the winding trails

Of transparent tubes plunged deep into his throat

He examines another buried memory

The little boy standing beside the weathered fence

As winter grasses folded into flattened paths

Beneath softly pounding feet

He feels the chill of the final frontier

When his wife reached out to touch him.




Lynda Lambert
104 River Road
Ellwood City, PA 16117

My Blog:  http://www.walkingbyinnervision.blogspot.com
My Website:  http://lyndalambert.com





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