After the Snow

That moment when you wake

to the unaccustomed quiet and just know

by the delicate glow that creeps

from under the window blind

it must be snow.

And for a little space, less than a day,

it’s perfect. The cat in her beauty sits and stares

at this strange white wonder

and nobody dares walk on it

yet. But then a fox runs across it

or a crow. Then it begins to melt

a bit around the edges and the hedges

and all too soon it’s just

old snow. But my it was perfect

Once.