Walking Home from School in a Sympathetic Winter Scene

February 28, 2009 at 12:20 am (A Catalogue of the Lost, Poems, Small Observations, The 90s)

The low clouds muffle the sound of snow
about to fall and land
on this ground already covered

I circle the frozen lake alone

If you were here
(the dead always know more than the living)
we could hear what no one else
has ever heard in this muted silence –
the crystalized molecules rapidly
skating into each other
just above my head

I’m sure I can hear
the snow about to fall:
it’s the sound of a child’s mobile
made of a hundred small icicles
or a seamstress’s wind chime
strung with twenty tiny needles

I can hear all this in my head
as I walk home alone
in this stone deaf February afternoon

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