For Kathleen Kolb

The way light stops on the side of the white house,
works with bare trees to make shadows on the grass.

Clouds in their colors:  yellow, purple, blue, gray.
What moonlight does to snow.  How streetlamps

change houses. Icebergs in context. The shapes
of men and machines against the mountains and the sky.

The sawmill I passed every day and did not see
until I saw it hanging on a wall, every log and wisp of smoke.

The house that anchored the old farm
where last winter my old neighbor died.

3 comments on “SEEING

  1. erieffel says:

    A gorgeous poem. The imagery of light and contrast is so striking that the last stanza is a cutting surprise, the way that loss always is.

  2. I don’t know how you do it, Mary, write these amazing poems, one after another after another. I don’t know how, but, I am grateful.

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