Tag Archives: white covering red


by Ethel Mortenson Davis

If only it would snow,
white covering red;
red now is everywhere
in this world.
If you go up into space
all that is made by man is gray;
gray is everywhere
in this world.
I want to put a ladder
further up
so that what I see
is the red-brown
of the earth,
the green of vegetation,
and the lovely blue of water,
shrouded by a white,
see-through shawl
around her shoulders
where there is no longer gray.


Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry, Uncategorized


by Ethel Mortenson Davis

The snow laid down
on the ground
thick and deep,
covering over
the mistakes
we made yesterday—
white covering
over red–

like the wounded deer
that winter
in the swamp
missed by tracking hunters.
He found refuge
among the cedars
in the water.

He laid still,
but spirit still moved
in his eyes
as snow
quietly covered him—
white covering
over red.

Copyright © I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico, 2010.


Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry