|Jul/Aug 2000 Poetry|
A Campari at Contina D'Ampezzo
Now with snow outside,
The whole landscape, a pure whiteness,
I understand. I had a choice of roads;
I took the one towards the deepest winter.
It was the wild green road I loved,
But was afraid not to freeze.
The pale blue shadows between
The high piled snow,
A blue like the blue of her eyes,
Were some compensation.
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