Snowfalls & Seaways

This is the middle of March.
Nor’easter snowfall
packs us indoors,
city plows useless
as the Erie Canal.
On Child’s Street,
snow rusts the marine
legs’ reach over the
river—at sunset,
like the desperate arms
of black willows.
I have heard the Lost
Villages were beautiful.
The St. Lawrence used us.
Lake effect trapped us.
I was born in Buffalo.

after Ruth Stone


Date created 19 Feb 2008
Date modified 08 Oct 2016
Journal The Volunteer Review (May 2011)