Alone
Alone, pausing to appreciate
the snow, I hear a train— its whistle blow—
in the near distance. The sound
through falling snow, through white
air (even in rain I have heard it so),
a carving through the atmosphere
like string music, or nostalgia. And I
so small here in the wood,
inside the sound inside the snow.
*
Sally Nacker lives in a small house in the woods of Redding, CT with her husband and two cats. Recent publishing credits include Canary, The Orchard’s Poetry Journal, ONE ART, Third Wednesday, and The Sunlight Press. Kindness in Winter is her newest collection.
