White world, little distinction
between ground and sky, even
birds won’t brave the coldness.
Yesterday I saw geese fall out
over the shale lake, like lanterns,
gold-bellied, backlit by a setting sun.
The first Christmas without your call.
Today is startling in its stillness,
another thing has come and gone:
Snow coats the road and yards,
the mountains engulfed
by clouds, so what else
can we measure by besides
a sense of gain, or loss?