Old Snow
In our last years
The snow growing old
Is slow and obstinate,
Litter on the sidewalk.
To clear it away
And the garbage truck
Long retired
It lies contentedly
On the street
White winter’s
Wrapping paper.
Then late in the day
When the sun arrives
Fresh water over hard earth
White wrinkles across the grass
Bent and lame
Through sunny breezes
Up airy steps
The flowers climb
Wheezing then sighing
They stop halfway
As youth goes by,
Laughter above moans.
It is autumn in spring
Grey hair amongst gold
Or for those unkind:
Weeds between roses
Out of young leaves
Arthritic petals
Touch the sky
Fading back in pain.
This is old snow,
It lives too long
To release the new gifts
Of summer growth.
It is the usual story
Louise tells a different tale
The day rising
And snow slips away
Night falling
On an empty road.
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