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Winter Road, Virginia
Distance is cold. Your tongue would stick to it.
Above the gleaming garage, a halo
of cold distance, whiter than snow;
elsewhere soft blue and purple distances,
tempting, dangerous tothe eye: it must not
linger there, must keep moving!
On both sides, small conflagrations:
Nervous jitter of tree-flames cast
opalescent flicker on the house,
and a crucified bearer of powerful tidings
leans numbly into the pale fire for warmth.
These surfaces warm themselves
less in colors than in their nearness,
tangibility. Warmth is touching.
We could touch this house.
Nearer yet, blue-white layers of snow
reach out on either side to embrace us,
for distances can be intimate.
by Dean Blehert
(Painting can't be located)
March 24, 2010