What Calls Us
In winter, it is what calls us
from seclusion, through endless snow
to the end of a long driveway
where, we hope, it waits—
this letter, this package, this
singing of wind around an opened door.
Reprinted from What Calls Us, a Dacotah Territory Chapbook, 2003, by permission of the author, whose most recent book is Broken Lines: Prose Poems, from Juniper Press, St. Paul, MN, 2003. Poem copyright © 2003 by David Bengtson.
Source: What Calls Us (Dacotah Territory, 2003)