I want everything to melt soon, this “forever white”

snow, a new embankment formed from the mountainside

so that no flood waters flow. Pages of white-

lined paper are my only amusement these days

after the sudden avalanche. The winter’s white

light looks bright as summer’s, but it’s bristly cold.

Caught between two hard places, this white

track is too dangerous to go unaccompanied by foot.

Stuck here until it melts, I dream of white

flowers, their intoxicating sweet scents

taking me out of bed, until I see the still white

paths glistening in the sun. Not yet–not yet.

Published in “Looking in, looking out: an international anthology of poetry and short stories” (Willowdown Books: November 2023)

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