Glass Poetry Press

Volume Six Issue One

Lee Slonimsky

Current Drifting West

The broken branch can't drink but if it could, imagine its delight two months from now when April shatters all this snow around it, and it sips the clear flow afterwards — overflowing — sips the ice cold current drifting west, downhill toward the soothe of May, June's solstice-fiery love and the poignancy, late summer when all the living branches shudder with that chill very first hint of autumn, a chill like no other, not even freeze of April melt nor snow that is its source.