“Aurorae Hiemis”

BY GREELEY RIORDAN

World, show me something beautiful:
The one-pane window cannot handle winter.
Fat silver dewdrops condense on the glass,
And the sun throws itself through them like gold.

No more gold-leafed maples, no more burning bush;
The sky, split open and clear, does not have any geese.
Everything is going away, always, but with what is still here, oh —
World, show me something beautiful.

Season of stars and pines and spiders inside;
The grass gleams silver each morning.
Say you cannot find anything lovely here —
The one-pane window cannot handle winter.

No more deep-green moss, but instead frozen red clay;
The sun rises, sets, and rises, and there is always some color.
Green onions, black soil, forever-blue sky. And in my room,
Fat silver dewdrops condense on the glass.

No more violets, no more daffodils, no more dandelions;
All the birds are small and plump and dull, quiet-songed.
I hold my bloodied heart up to the window, my tired eyes, my gentle loves —
And the sun throws itself through them like gold.