by Jason Zippro
The pass still full of snow-—
the valley’s heavy with a wetness.
The apple tree has bloomed,
its white petals pinkly lipping the cold air.
Poetry | Fiction | Nonfiction | Art
The pass still full of snow-—
the valley’s heavy with a wetness.
The apple tree has bloomed,
its white petals pinkly lipping the cold air.