Valentine’s Day

Katherine Frey Lavalette


Valentine’s Day

No one goes there now.
For days the smooth snow,
unbroken to the treeline,
lifted there by wind
along the ridge, settles
at last among the stones.
At night, stars, high,
hiss an inaudible static,
dance for the dead.

In the morning,
if there is sun,
what little sun there is
washes down between the stones,
lights but does not warm.
Cold reigns,
and I stand in the drift,

7 thoughts on “Valentine’s Day

  1. Ron,

    I can feel the warmth (your love for her) and the cold (“orphaned”) all at the same time.

    …lights but does not warm…” and “…I stand in the drift…”

    Just beautiful.


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