First Snow

Thin, wandering flakes, winter headed to nowhere particular. The softening pumpkin wears its hat cocked.

A little early for snow, but it has a welcome brightness, vivid on the red cherries. Inside, I'm reading the book of Ezekiel. Put away poem about apcolyptic visions and dug out this oldey to work on:

First Snow

In the Dells past Milwaulkee it begins
to snow. On the station siding,
people stand tiptoe, craning, till
across their faces flash
the sudden names of joy.
The siding empties. The train huffs
and lurches, pulls forward like a line
of music. Thicker, faster, the snow
falls slantwise, snow on the highway,
snow in the bare bogs of cranberry,
snow in the trees, snow on the jumbled
right of way. In Chicago yesterday
I meet the man I will someday
marry. Parting we stood a long time
where the doors close
right along the platform.
The distance softens, and the sky pearls,
then darkens. Over the trestle
the sway of the car is perfect
sadness, fine as jazz.