This Is An Ending

And for a moment it was in front of our eyes and it was


Is watching it fall thinking it will fall to us

Is beholding it before us thinking it will stay

Is seeing it go thinking it will let us


The first snow of December with our fingers hoping

To catch it while it has not yet

Sunk onto soiled skin but still suspended in the space

Between the clouds that twist themselves in grotesque shapes

And the warm musky ground where the little flakes sear themselves to


Is black and frozen and ugly but so is the feverish crimson

Spluttering and spurting of birth we were blurted from

Without warning while watchful eyes waited to seize the


Wanes once it exists because

A thing is only beautiful while it is

Delayed from one ugliness to the next

And so

When we catch the snow,

Our hope is to forget it before we learn how to regre--

Post photo by Lisa Fotios from Pexels

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