ENTRIES FITTED FOR FREEZING RAIN            


I    II   III    

II.

My son told me I am a thin poet.

                                              I was overheard, by his friends,
                                              muttering in a classroom.

                                                                             My speech
                                              was mud.
                                                                             The thin light
                                              was vine.

                                             It curved blindly, but his friends,
                                             they saw the light knew where to go,
                                                                          knew where to fill me.