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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