On the Trail at Dusk
In the flat light before darkness, the snow
is all wrong, the snow turns trickster, and white
isn’t white when everything’s white. You know
you mustn’t trust your eyes — uphill is down,
a bump is a hole, and high becomes low.
In the flat light before darkness, the sound
is like nothing you can name, not when night
reclaims its own, and everything around
turns strange in the blue stillness of flat light.
© Michael Fleming
Brattleboro, Vermont
February 2021
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