Was I ten?
I think?
Was it December?
that I became distracted
by the snow's
falling
silence?

The ******'s hills lure me
off
the curving path
toward home--
I surely know
my way--
though
path invisible
snow beyond my knees

Now
but for the patterns of the trees
that etch the skyline
I would be lost...
My love....
...were it not for those
I would be lost

My feet lift depths
Impassible
The snow
impossible--
could it be this deep?
could take this much?
should trudge so far?
beyond
my depth
my breath
a fog-- of
all
I own?

I am wading in the white
down-warmth
Sweat
in spite--
of freezing
of parental threat...
Wind brings tears
to reddened cheeks
Toes, long since numb
...and I am late-- as always

Wipe my nose on sleeve
Pull mittens with my teeth
fumbling
tissues damp in pocket deep

I have gone so far
too far
into the ******'s windings
with my mind

and night is falling
Night is watching
from the hemlocks
now behind
my purpose--
only
in
the gray of sky
the ghostly silence
of the moon rise

I don't know where night came from
How it got here
why I came
only that I want to linger--
longer
than that twinge of fear

Listen...to
soft tick
of snow
against itself

Wind in white pines
saddest of living things
begs a loan of winter winds