February's Forgotten Mitts
Shep lies long-bodied upon the auburn grass –
It has been dried in the glance of the sudden sun.
As you pass he wrinkes a sideward eye to the astounding blue of heaven.
Half a mile away the year's first cackling of hens, aroused from the cold.
The fields and roads rejoice in slithering mud over the frost.
Somewhere a well-clear, golden echo of children's voices crying and calling.
After dinner Pete looks around for his mitts.
He has lost them about the barn this morning;
Spring has flung forward an unringed hand.
~~
Raymond Knister (1899-1932)
from The Midland, December 1922
[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]
Raymond Knister biography
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