Snowfall – a poem by Janet Krauss


With an attentive touch snow falls slowly
on my hair, my face. I pretend to be
St. Francis feeding a bird
as the drops of snow anoint us.
I wonder what else could sustain
this moment of bliss. I think
of what Murakami wrote about a circle
with no circumference, a circle
with many centers and feel I found it
in the innermost center of my being
as I stand in this stilled moment.
Of course there is no circumference.
The elixir I breathe in defies barriers.

Janet Krauss, who has two books of poetry published, Borrowed Scenery, Yuganta Press, and Through the Trees of Autumn, Spartina Press, has recently retired from teaching English at Fairfield University. Her mission is to help and guide Bridgeport’s  young children through her teaching creative writing, leading book clubs and reading to and engaging a kindergarten class. As a poet, she co-directs the poetry program of the Black Rock Art Guild.

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