Wolverine Stew: Snow in a Lamplight

It is quiet here, footsteps home

Masked in the flurries of cold I

Cannot fully see but certainly feel

Merging with my face

Crackling like static, like muffled rain

And I walk along the lines of amber light

Watching the snow quickly fall

Into and out of the glow, out of being seen

And yet still it grows into the winter

Morning. I’ll see it through frost

Blooming on my windows

And the snow will become

Blizzards, rain, thawing puddles, clear skies

But for now, it is still

It is quiet here


Hello! My name is Clyde Granzeier, and I am a senior at the University of Michigan majoring in Creative Writing and Literature and minoring in History. This is Wolverine Stew, a weekly poem blog about the strange, stressful, and fun parts of life here in Ann Arbor. Each poem will cover something different, ranging from D&D with friends to the jack-o-lanterns across campus to the trumpet-shaped and puffball mushrooms that pop up in the Arb after it rains. This will basically be a stew of experiences (pun absolutely intended) from my time at U of M, and I hope you enjoy! P.S. No wolverines were harmed in the making of this stew : )

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