Harvey S. Mozolak
the stalks left since October
like the odd pens and pencils
in a wire container on my desk
have given up their protestations
and leaned over a few breaking
in the cold front that blasted through
this afternoon
January has moved into time
with its promise
that it will make everything new
by covering over all previous mistakes
its paper white falling in flakes
blanking in blankets and drifts
the wind thinks it is part eraser
but these words are written
and will be kept indoors
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