How long I have spent in wordless thought
in search of words for what is not
I care not to know and so know not.
I think each unthawed thought of the past
has come to be lost
The year is 1922, and in this sleepy Michigan hamlet the night of the first snow has brought silence to the world. The powder piles deeply around each oaken home, where it shifts mystically by faint firelight or gleams in the newer electric glare.