A Poem for February

from IN FEBRUARY by Ralph J. Mills, Jr.

Sudden icy wind slaps at the ash
tree’s thin frame; a shred of moon
hangs above clouds rushing east
over the lake.

Inside, I spread a hand
on the table, my palm
opening into slopes and ravines
of a weathered topography.

Going nowhere, I turn
in the night to reach among memories
that come apart, fade,
not caring

if they’re no more than clouds
and belong to someone else’s life.

Information on Ralph J. Mills, Jr. can be found at Poetr...