Afternoon Light

Slant, slide down

the ridges and slopes

make shadows look so good

people forget the coming night,

the twenty-degree temperature drop.

Make them want to take a photograph

and fail. Photos can’t catch

the dropped jaw, the breath’s sharp draw.

Exist then disappear.

Remind them that despite the snow,

the arcs of white, despite shadowy ridges,

despite the sad thermometer,

despite crystallized breath,

nothing is ever frozen.

Make them see that under three feet of ice

water flows, unstilled, but don’t ever

give them proof you were there.