Blue Snow

By Donald Hall
Pete Sullivan dropped by:
“Your barn needs work, and so do I.”
Pete had the eye

To fix old boards with new
And keep the handy knotholes through
Which swallows flew.

Pete raked and scraped away
Seventy-year-old scraps of hay
And found the sleigh

That frisky Riley drew
In nineteen-hundred-thirty-two
When snow fell blue.

Old cowbarns tilt awry
When sills go punky, and that’s why
Peter dropped by.

This article available online at:

http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2011/08/blue-snow/308573/