A man in a field walks through a storm.
Snowflakes on his eyelashes blur his vision.
A man in a study believes in snow,
believes in the truth of snow.
A man leaves traces as he walks.
His tracks ornament the field’s blank.
He meanders, doubles back, evading,
leaves imprints that the snow erases.
A man walks. The snow falls.
In a study, a man devotes himself to snow.
He reads from the book of snow.
He composes wintry axioms.
“Snow: Atmospheric water vapor frozen into ice crystals
that drop on a walking man’s eyelashes
or lie blank in an unwritten field.
“Snow is a conflict,
a confusion, a yearning.
Letters are desire.
Margins are melancholy.”
The storm disappears.
A man squints at blurred words,
Resumes writing,
Shaking snow from the page.
