SNOW by J.R. Solonche

SNOW

The snow started when one flake
landed on my sleeve and stayed
there like a piece of light that had
forgotten how to be infinite. Snow
falls and falls. It doesn’t care about
the property lines. It doesn’t care
about the fact that I haven’t
finished the chores I promised
the autumn I would do. Snow falls
and falls. Soon will the woods
become a white room. Snow falls
and falls and falls, and the earth
yields itself up into the sky’s hands.

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Nominated for the National Book Award, the Eric Hoffer Book Award, and nominated three times for the Pulitzer Prize, J.R. Solonche is the author of more than 40 books of poetry and coauthor of another. He lives in the Hudson Valley.