Tim Torkildson's Clown Alley
The Poet Laureate of the New York Times Newsroom
Saturday, January 27, 2018
The mountains hold mute
the last ones of all
an obsolete tribe of brown
the mountains hold mute
the cold night rouses
there is a hint of something
lighter than snowfall
the rose haw is shut
the tumbled stones rest for good
winter means to hold
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