on snow covered lakes poetry a hole is dug and with your jacket (made of down) you take a dive i’d call it a swim but treading attempting to stay alive as you look on in longing and me laughing. yea “swim” is probably not the best word. Share this: Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr Share on Mastodon (Opens in new window) Mastodon Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook Share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest Email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email Share on X (Opens in new window) X Like Loading...