Karl Young, from - a few short lines from What to Whisper Until It Rains; Short Poems 1963-1972, revised 1989 & 1992 and in a few short lines, Word Press and Light and Dust Books, 1993

by Karl Young 

     ice blades in the rough veins of the pine trees
     hang in the silence, wait in the slow days;
     snow light in the predawn of the bedroom
     illuminates my halfsleep, penetrates my sealed eyes.
     floating in the first calm we have known yet
                           we may pass
                           even touch
                           before the spring comes.
From Grist On-Line #1, October, 1993.
grist@phantom.com