Standing on my front doorstep…
Susurrations fill the spaces
of a soft, fluorescent night.
Windless snow accumulates
to mute the ragged edges
in profiles of leafless trees.
I stand still, and wonder.
(Why this snow, this night,
should draw me to reflections
of the past, is hard to say.)
Gentle hiss from small collisions,
multitudes of flakes appear
from darkness, then pass
slowly through my vision,
bounce, and settle soft.
I stand, and wonder still.
(What is in this night, this snow,
that turns my inward lens
to images in time,
places I have seen,
and brings me home to winters
in ages lived and loved, will be
perhaps, impossible to say.)
The hum, just barely not imagined,
draws attention to a streetlamp,
refracted and expanded,
yet, in spite of the illusion
left less able to illuminate.
And still, I stand and wonder.
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