On your own terms, when you can go
Inside any time you like, and the sun
Is high and tall, and the wind is low,
Something dreamlike about winter,
Something of eternity.

As if after death your soul would
Still be dreaming, and you’d live
On as a sun dog, all the rays
Reflecting, each to each. No way
To tell which one shone the brightest
Or had the most vivid streaks.

But tough to think of this on that one day
Mid-winter when it gets dark at two,
The wind slicing, and for the last
Few minutes you’ve been looking
For the shallow end of a slush lake,
One mile long and two miles wide.

As children we are told, whether we care
Or not, that there are two parts
To every story, and each coin has two
Sides. No one believes this at heart.
No one really takes this in,

Except, maybe, in winter, that day
The sun says ‘Excuse me,’ and rises late,
And weakly. By noon you have lost all hope.
And yet after twelve the sky is so blue
Your heart leaps, catching you quite

Off guard, and the wind died down
When you weren’t looking, and
Now what snow is left on the fields
Shines so bright you can barely look,
Everything white, perfect, and forever.