"...MORE FULL OF WEEPING..."

In the bedroom
from which he first

saw snow falling...
...snow now falls.

He watches the ghost
of his young self

press his face
against the glass

snow sticking
to his reflection.

Amazed that a world
can fall

into such a silence
hide itself in a white quiet.

Snow falls
in the old bedroom

where his sister recited
his first Yeats....kissed him goodnight.

Snow clings
to peeling wall

blown against
the remembrance

of things long ago
forgotten.

Snow covering
his lost sister's voice

"...for the world’s
more full of weeping

than you
can understand..."