A Monochromatic Westport Day
First snow..(after the thaw, that is)
Falling snow makes the Island quiet: a peaceful place to walk the dog and muse.
You’ve come to frost the rubble-shaven hill…
to fill the frozen valley’s cup until,
with joy, a flood of runnings over will
noise of spring…then flowers will erase
even the memory of your pale, white face.
–Jerry Day Mason, Speaking to Strangers (1986)