Dec 20, 2015

DECEMBER POEM



FIRST SNOW 
So provisional, it almost doesn’t
count—uncourageous, afraid
of everything concrete, the frozen closes in
on asphalt, then vanishes
into nostalgia.

In the streetlight, the sky is all dust,
pale and full of flutter;
on the ground, damp pockets of no longer.

Tentative as first snow reluctant to land,
we move again toward the other,
remember the chill,
the pleasure of complete cover.

by: Marjorie Maddox