Callie Plaxco

The sound of snow


the tall trees brushing wind,


and the whistle like a song.

See the moose on the trail,

deep in white.

See the elk on the field beside the road,


I watch the horizon

for the color of sky all hazy sunset

painted with feather.

And soon the mountain

like a cloud snow-piled

and unhemmed.


the sage grass, the willows, the cottonwood

as if lit from within.

And here,

just below the skin,

something unstrings


Callie Plaxco flew the coop when she left South Carolina to journey west to the University of Wyoming for her MFA. She now calls Wyoming home, where she learns patiently how to be both a mother and a poet with her new baby boy. Her work has been published at Carve Magazine, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, and Axe Factory.