Early, in the light-grey darkness after snowfall
I heard the child speak, in word-strings and sounds.
It was a language from a foreign tongue,
one lighter and more gentle, it fell like snow.
In the faces of lovers for a helpless moment
one can see something before they know they are in love
and everything’s restored. There is glass
and when it breaks one hears a special sound
and cracks through frozen lakes run on
so fast that no bird’s flight can emulate it.
I do not know how many daybreaks I have seen
but none correctly matched the day that followed.
It passes. Does not linger. The crack runs on.
But in the light-grey, the indefinite, we could reside.
You know what snow looks like once it has fallen.