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.”