DEAR EMILY

At Amherst
the leaves are scattered
in the shadows of snow
as my car seems cursed
and is unable to travel far
yet on the go
he choose to visit you
my sister,
it probably
does't matter
with all your
fair weather fans scattered
in a world wide tower
of Babel
where life never ends
with honorable friends
who offer you flowers
at a reasonable hour
at every season,
not willing to delay
or suspend a speculator's visit
to a greater poet any longer
we are your winter friends
no strangers in offering
to Em all their amends.