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.