Stephen Knauth

Hales Corners

In winter, the child thinks,
the flowers are under the ground,
in full bloom, under the snow, waiting.
The cowboys on the wallpaper
are patiently driving the cattle north.
Dust cloud, horns, dark eyes that never close.
At the window, through the storm,
the big cedars stand their ground.
Duty, Loyalty, Obedience.
A murmuring sound, late at night—
voices from the kitchen,
or a ship going down on Lake Michigan.
Surely their souls will drift
down into the arms of Jesus
who is like the snow itself,
calm and deep and everywhere.