Snow Becoming Light by Morning

By Jill Osier b. 1974 Jill Osier
In case you sit across from the meteorologist tonight,
and in case the dim light over the booth in the bar still shines
almost planetary on your large, smooth, winter-softened
forehead, in case all of the day—its woods and play, its fire—
has stayed on your beard, and will stay through the slight
drift of mouth, the slackening of even your heart's muscle—
. . . well. I am filled with snow. There's nothing to do now
but wait.

Source: Poetry (October 2008).


This poem originally appeared in the October 2008 issue of Poetry magazine

October 2008
 Jill  Osier


Jill Osier's work has been awarded a Literature Fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts, the Diane Middlebrook Poetry Fellowship from the Wisconsin Institute for Creative Writing, and the Campbell Corner Poetry Prize. She is the author of a letterpress chapbook Bedful of Nebraskas. Her poems appear widely.

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SUBJECT Relationships, Men & Women, Nature, Winter

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Originally appeared in Poetry magazine.

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