Still World

I know I am not alone here now.
I know there are homes and parks
And cars and motorbikes
And birds and deer
And countless things.

But these things are veiled
By my half-closed eyelids,
my winter gloves and coat,
And the hat that encases my ears.

All that’s left are the rushing wind
and the falling flakes
resting and melting on my face.

In a day or two, the ground I lie on—
The fluffy, cloudlike ground—
Will begin to shine with ice particles
Til it’s brittle and hard, and can hold my weight.
Til it crunches and splinters under my boots.
But here and now. . .

Here and now,
In the place where I am not alone,
In the place with houses and homes
And cars and motorbikes
And birds and deer
And countless things. . .

In that place, what I sense is
The snow falling
And the wind howling
And the trees shaking on high—

And yet the world stays still.