Monday, December 12, 2016

MINISTRY OF WINTER

At the mercy of such pristine majesty,
everything manmade simplifies,
like some haphazard fraction.

No terrific, mottled Appaloosas—only the innocent
infinity of their barnyards
everywhere; simultaneous lengths of all

time and roads compacted,
creaking, and anonymously on display.
Even at the bracing

smokewhite of daybreak,
all seems equally
dazzling and incidental,

slowed to a dead pause on the brink
of immeasurable sleep. But in this breach,
what unsought but remarkable

freedom exists: every tightfisted
and usual path
having just been—humanely erased.