.
The Sami have a hundred words for snow.
I have few, yet many glaciers flow.
I know the bite of my own bark
—toothless as a frog upon a stone
I croak across my pond.
The sun (first spark to setting ember)
knows everything I’ve known, but better;
is in on everything I do and don’t remember,
seen it all, collecting as it burned,
tells what is and not, has bound
with bolts of light together
all love I never tendered.
.
Jim Culleny
3/3/12
Blink 