Parker Towle, Poetry

Spring Thaw at River’s Edge

by Parker Towle

When I stop and open
the window a chill rises
over the wheels and

surrounds my head. The river
snaps its tail swelling
the surface and rocking

blocks of ice. Across the boil
fingerless hands emerge
and turn the flood plain

into ponds, muddying
soil around yellowed
stumps of corn.