L I T T L E T O W N S S H I N I N G I N T H E D I S T A N C E
When the young man on the bus crosses his leg to settle into his book, a chunk of snow
slips silent from his boot. He leans to look over the edge of his seat, as if he’s dropped
a coin or handkerchief. Closing the book, he swivels both feet neatly into the aisle
and gently stomps them twice, checks, resumes his reading.
I have been traveling longer than him. My whole body hums,
my boots dry with nowhere.
(A poem by Jill Osier, winner of the 2013 Frost Place Chapbook Competition sponsored by Bull City Press)