Snow Parable
The world grows
smaller the way company
narrows a room.
A crack of smoke rises,
a pavement
drawn in air.
Snow laid down
like linen
makes a light-filled bed.
We pass through
the needle, not rich
but lavishly poor.
*
Audrey Hackett lives and walks in Yellow Springs, Ohio. Her poems have appeared in The Bitter Oleander, Alba, Right Hand Pointing, Green Ink Poetry, and ONE ART, and have been aired on NPR affiliate WYSO. She holds an MFA from Vermont College of Fine Arts and currently works as a communications consultant.
