by Maureen Scott Harris

such a small grief  this disappointment
a minor heft and cost  yet it spawns
an empty ache   words arguing


grasp the smallness clearly   its depth
and sorrow   a small loss is still a loss
choose to clench it like something not

swallowed   a scrape in the chest
or give it to the wind   the one blowing
this morning from the northwest

its cold delicate touch almost tender
watch snow blow smooth across the fields
see how it lies there reflecting light

in shades of white gray and blue
its uninsistent silence   let go, let
go of self and word   align

yourself with weather   grieve
the larger loss   the way your thoughts
narrow   to a waiting room

where nothing breathes

— from Juniper Volume 3, Issue 2