It itched the snowfog 

high out
on the dandruff shoulder
of the mountainside’s
dark pelt.

I picked at it

like a scab.
It dropped!
& fell through
the ice-skin of drab

welted water 

like a rock, leaving
no mark. But oh, how I felt
a wing-shaped opening
starting to melt 

in our winter hearts.

Decades ago, autodidact/ bloody-minded optimist kerry rawlinson gravitated from sunny Zambian skies to solid Canadian soil. Now she stalks Literature & Art’s Muses around the Okanagan Valley, still barefoot, her patient husband ensuring she’s fed. Recent achievements: Edinburgh International FlashFiction Award; FishPoetry Prize; BestCanadian Poetry 2019 “Notable Poem”. Newer pieces: ForeignLiterary, AcrossTheMargin, PaintedBride, TupeloQuarterly, ConnecticutRiverReview, Pedestal, ArcPoetry, amongst others. Visit at Tumblr; Tweet @kerryrawli