Drift, after Souster’s “The Six Quart Basket” standing, she watched snow fall a bushel cracking its rounded wood agape, whitening collecting winter’s fruit her children sang another silent night caught in seasons away from chores beckoning back to boiling pots and baking chops— not imagining, one day her frozen face in photos, captured, trembling body, its own surprise of winter: a fragile oak leaf scatters fringes across a broken basket mute, alone slowly filled with snow © Renée M. Sgroi, 2016 This poem won an Honourable Mention, and was originally published in The Banister, Niagara Poetry Anthology, vol. 31, 2016