The Surety of Snow

    Surety of Snow

    Sure
    We had snow
    In the land of my youth.
    The sky would turn a yellow-grey
    And parched forest would hold its breath
    In palpable anticipation.

    Did the ragged flakes leisurely trace a plumbline to ground
    Or did our house simply drift
    Up?

    It
    Was hard to know
    From where we burrowed,
    Shared warmth under a comfort of down,

    While a man on a park bench preached to his
    Everpresent gulls

    We trusted the promise that there would be no lack of water
    Come summer