The poem begins with a cold, bleak winter scene: distant heights, listless fields, a river, trees snapping in the snow, a bird watching frozen mice. Nothing here is comforting. Then the speaker breaks in with a blunt, weary line: "i am sick / of talking about / vietnam." The war seems to hang over the quiet landscape, and the speaker can't shake it, even while looking at bridges and snow.
The imagery that follows is strange and dreamlike. Huge birds leave their prints, fly away in September, and return as blackbirds, which the speaker calls "incredible demons." These images suggest something dark coming back, perhaps memories or fears. The speaker then addresses them directly: "i am your mind / frozen." The mood is numb, tired and uneasy. Yet the final lines offer a thin hope: even a frozen mind might be woken by "the smallest / bloom." The poem ends quietly, with possibility rather than certainty.