Poem

for Trevor Winkfield

December 26, 1970

The wind tears up the sun

and scatters it in snow.

The sky smiles and out

of its mouth drifts free

a milk tooth which of itself

glides under the pillow

of a cloud. The Tooth Fairy

knows where to look and when

to lock away the leaves

long since packed up and

left: “I’m southbound.” Not

now, though this funny

fluffy winter rain coasts

down and coats the grass

dry and white, a corn meal

shampoo. “Brush it in,

brush it out.” Easier

said than done. Things

take the time they take:

leaves leaving, winter

and its flakes, not less

though shorter lived.