Sleeping Beauty
At sunset I leave the house for the first time
after a bout of winter flu. In my thick blackcoat I walk out of the subdivision into the
marsh where stick trees and cattails poke
through the snow and everything is still and
quiet like a fading photograph. The sound
of my boots squeaking on Styrofoam snow
is the only thing to separate this moment
from dreams. This place, its sleeping beauty,
fills my brightening body as I walk quick
over a bed of diamonds, following the sun.
by Ivy Young
marsh where stick trees and cattails poke
through the snow and everything is still and
quiet like a fading photograph. The sound
of my boots squeaking on Styrofoam snow
is the only thing to separate this moment
from dreams. This place, its sleeping beauty,
fills my brightening body as I walk quick
over a bed of diamonds, following the sun.
by Ivy Young
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