When snow comes early

Mary Harpin

After Quinn Latimer

Leaves accept an early fate and privacies come bare.
There she is, in the naked broadleaf:
the hawks’ nest, the mother hawk, slender
eye, slender beak. We didn’t know
she was here all along, gone tomorrow.
What do you name the sacred
privacies of snow? Sorrow?

Mary Harpin is a poet and freelance writer. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Juked, Terrain, McSweeney’s, Conclave and elsewhere. She is at work on an interview series with Pen Parentis about the lives of writers who are also parents. Mary lives in Colorado with her husband and daughters.

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