Snowfall in G Minor
Marianne Boruch
Overnight, it’s pow! The held note
keeps falling. And only seems
slow. Because it’s just
frozen rain, what’s the big deal? the checker
in Stop and Shop told me.
Save warmth
like stamps. The fade of their color
in the 1920s. Airmail. The pilot with his
skin-tight goggle helmet on his
miniature head could be
snow-blind.
All heads are small. Mine’s
lost as a thimble
in this weather. Where
a finger should be and be
sewing, every thought
I ever thunk.
Just this word
thunk. Never used.
It lands, noisy
metal in a bucket. That’s
the last of it. No echo
for miles of this
snowfall—as in
grace, fallen from,
as in a great height, released
from its promise.
Although the weather here hasn't made up it's mind if it's going to really snow or just rain, just close to fifty miles south of where I live, it snowed relentlessly.
The full eclipse of the moon was visible last night for the first time in 500 years the news reported yesterday. The moon disappeared close to midnight. I forgot to walk outside to see the moon fade to black. The eclipse ushered in the winter solstice, the true star of the season, the reason every culture the world over celebrates the coming of the new year.
All I can say is that I am thrilled to say goodbye to 2010 and welcome in 2011. The year of the rabbit feels hopeful.
No comments:
Post a Comment