Waning gibbous moon hanging on Orion's belt
drips melted butter glow on great piles of snow.
Sins of the city absolved by relentless layers of virgin white.
Even in the blinding blow of near-vernal blizzard,
five-thirty crepuscular light promises equinox.
Waking to Spring's first Sabbath, a shower lies
powdered on the sidewalk.
Church-bound children's boots waffle the snow
in patterns worthy of the flakes themselves.
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| Copyright � 1996 Ian Lynch. All rights reserved |