by Ryan Norman
Our hot breath plumed wet clouds
of snowstorms in your converted
pigsty on cold black nights—
Frosted grounds of the orchard echoed
our joy and the deer stood still.
Quilts trapped the warmth of our flesh
as I read Whitman into your
eyes pressing a finger against
flushed lips advancing a
kiss by the fire.
Ryan Norman is a writer from New York dwelling in the mountains along the Hudson River. Inspired by the landscape, he writes what he feels. His poetry is an examination of memory and often depicts a snapshot of the past through the lens of a microscope. He enjoys climbing tall things, and swimming in mountain lakes. You can find his past work in Storgy Magazine. Follow him on Twitter: @RyanMGNorman.
(And for something different, see Ryan’s poem Lake Nights in the January 13, 2020 Weekly. – Elephants Never)