A Poem by Steve Klepetar

Homecoming, Minnesota

Falling through a hole in the clouds, floating like a thick-veined

leaf, I skimmed hard crusted snow, came to rest at the foot

of an oak. My fingers scraped against gray armored bark.

Nothing in my green dream-life had prepared me for this thrill of cold.

Mine was the breath of frogs in summer morning mist, mine

the buzz of insects on still nights, sun lingering with its last kiss

in the western sky. But now my breath is milk and frost, my own

cloud rising to branches heavy with snow…

and then I waited in silence: your hand leading me home.

Steve Klepetar’s work has received several nominations for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. Flutter Press has recently published his chapbooks “My Father Teaches Me a Magic Word,” and “My Father Had Another Eye.”