Poem by Mary Hobson

Snow in Zaraisk

A dangerous weight of snow
is overhanging my window.
It slid from the roof for a foot or two
one sunny morning.
But the frost caught it.
So there it hangs,
waiting for spring.
Embedded in the icy underside of this projection,
etched blackly, like a fly in white amber,
a twig with three berries
and a skeletal leaf,
caught by the first snow,
waits with it.
I am keeping an eye on things.
Dripping, dependent icicles have appeared.
The fall will be spectacular.

1. The Counsellors
2. Another Winter in Zaraisk…
3. Now I will always know that you died
4. Meditations on Marcus Aurelius
5. The pain’s the same size as the love

Print

2561 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version