W A N D E R I N G

"If I am ever to find these trees meaningful

I must have you by the hand. As it is, they

stretch dusty fingers into an obscure sky,

and the snow looks up like a face dirtied

with tears. Should I cry out and see what happens?
There could only be a stranger wandering

in this landscape, cold, unfortunate, himself
frozen fast in wintry eyes."

— Frank O'Hara