Preserved Hours
The Vermont air was like a crisp green grape.
You settled into your snowshoes
The way one would a bed in the dark, but
You fell over with one easy step.
We unbuttoned our icy jaws.
I’ve never remembered why we laugh,
Forever uneager to expel the cliché.
We laugh like Katy’s black truck
Bouncing down the cliff-side.
Our boots stopped at the edge of the forest –
You were afraid of the dark.
We didn’t all know each other,
You confessed with your teeth.
The canopy fluttered its hands inward, like
An invitation you’d never been offered.
You meowed to me with cat eyes
Exploring your surprised satisfaction,
Inhaling the blue darkness.
Snow crunched and flurried as we howled.
We laughed with our bellies,
Penetrating the hollows of the forest.
The woods were silent with shadows and nobodies.
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