Now the snow is falling

Even more than an hour ago.

The pine in the backyard

Bows with the weight of it.

Two years ago, my father

Died. What love we had,

Hidden under misery,

Weighed down with years

Of silence.

And now,

Maybe the poem can release

Us, maybe the poem can express

The love and let the rest

Slide to the earth as the snow

Does now, freeing the tree

Of its burden.