Photograph Poem by Brad Vogler
The pines are heavy with winter,
bark darker than the black coat she wears.
The snow she’s waded through,
deep as the bench she stands on,
has nearly swallowed her steps.
Over the fence behind her
the trees are caught somewhere
between rising and falling
as the hill descends into gully.
What goes on in her mind
still as her hair
as the untouched snow.