Detail of a Winter Landscape

And so it is once again
time to go back indoors
to the soul, which is a place
that looks strangely like
the out of doors. And outside
like this, looking upon, let's say,
the umbels of winter weeds
jutting from a snowy berm,
feels oddly like a place
without self. And how might this
peopleless place be a place of soul,
one might ask. And who
might it be one is asking.

And so a soul turns to a soul.
And wind moves snow.
And some of it becomes caught
in branches.

Erin Wilson's poems have appeared in, or are forthcoming in, Salamander Magazine, Crab Creek Review, takahē, The Prairie Journal, A Magazine of Canadian Literature, Pembroke Magazine, Hamilton Stone Review, The Honest Ulsterman, and elsewhere. Her first collection is At Home with Disquiet, published by Circling Rivers Press. She lives and writes and hangs out in the woods, near a small town in northern Ontario, Canada.