Last Snow

In the shimmering depth

of new snow

there is no self.

Glistening galaxies

gazing from lawns skyward,

night's wardrobe

where all possibilities leaning

dormant warning

the next great unexpected

blizzard of light,

melting, misting, lifting

as does a fog. Tasting breath

chilled like champagne silhouettes,

cold as the midnight of a century and

exhaled beyond living memory

(back beyond the solar plexus.)

Remember when this began

then is forgotten, and

now is wrapped in one more

moment of glamorous snow.