Crisp stars lit the dark sky as I strode
through two-foot deep paths of snow,
not caring about my wet hair or
hat stuffed into my pocket
on this below-zero night.
My jacket hung carelessly on my body,
as I sauntered like a god,
relaxed and open to the frigid night.
Emily Hershberger, Hardwick
This poem was written for the Verse-Village celebration of April Poetry Month.
