FOUR WAY REVIEW

An Electronic Literary Journal

SNOW LIGHT IS THE TRUE LIGHT by Martha Webster

Riga Mountain trail, 
our last hike before the blizzard.

The hawk we spooked
is perched across the pond—

a scent of snow
hangs heavy in the air.

The rabbit’s eye is big
and berry-bright,
lucid as a black marble.

He looks untouched
except his skull—
an open, red
pomegranate.

No clotting yet.

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