SNOW GLOBE

A crisp morning; snow

has fallen and ceased. Sky

the same never-broken cloudscape;

beyond, the long-rumoured

celestial realm of quintessence,

of perfection in blue. Here below

all is change, all is decay,

a river roaring from melting

snow and rain, coming, going

in this clockwork mechanism

we inhabit with dread and grief.

04.12.2017