Snow is a lesson in forgetting, a lesson in gravity,
a long loose sentence spiraling to the end of thought.
It prays to the young god robed in white, his ascent
a blizzard returning to the sky. It prays to the white-footed
mouse, the snowy owl, the varying hare and vole,
the cat with fur between his toes. It closes the gap
between drought and plenty, belief and blasphemy,
the ear and silence. It is a migration of birds
without eyes, without feet, who settle white in branches
on breasts and wings. When you stride through snow
in dreams or waking, you are a star-walker.
It prays to the soft fall of your boots.
~Whetstone (McClelland and Stewart Ltd, 2005)
