A Drop Away
pour la petite Raquel, brillant
The snow’s invasion had been spent
The clouds dispersed, vanquished away
like broken bread reduced to crumbs
blue skies through rifts appeared at last;
and after six o’clock we saw the sun.
It shone on Minneapolis
of glass, of towers ranked and bright,
a crop and shock of light. The corn
of winter’s summer’s prairie yield;
and still the cold impinges on our minds.
The mountains rise to mountain sky
though mountain skies are not like ours;
here skies are far more mutable
and swept with long north winds; and calm
the city rests immutable below.
The wind runs through alive, unchecked,
like all the rampant plows that range
to make aborted mine shafts in
the streets of Minneapolis;
on these we went in shadow long, in light.