'Hast thou entered into the treasures of the snow?'
- Job 38:22
How all that bright weight
came from clouds
astonished us that morning:
sky and earth joined
without horizon, full
as our new silence,
long streets vanished and the V's
of trees heavy, everything planted deeper
and mounded white.
When it's years since more than a skiff,
the schools don't open. Now
we remember the crush of footfall,
a softening in every angle,
the scrape of a shovel and how voices carry
metallic through the block.
Our visible breathing commingles
then melts upward toward plump roofs.
We walk past teens unabashed
making angels, grown men showing children
how to start snowballs rolling
into growing white planets
that will circle each yard.