SNOW AGAIN
. Snow again - the end
Of another year's vigil.
It
comes,
Searching me out,
Companionable, almost friendly.
I catch the crystals on the back of my hand
And watch them melt.
My hands remind me of yours.
This snow will pass. Under it the trees
Are in bud already and waiting.
THE DANCER
She moves
Where life and death are one - her gestures
Creating and destroying all things.
When the gods speak
We must remain silent.
This
is
the last
art.
Beyond empires and metaphysics
It
is this
That all things return to.
