Caught with fingertips
Into droplets,
These streaking diamonds
Recount memories
That can never be reclaimed.

The banks besmear
In dirt and dust,
Render to mud
What the past
Recalls pristine,
Maybe even divine,
In its blinding sheen.

I run from that which
Chills with a remembering warmth.
Now settling into a world
Mired with discomfort
But one I sought to claim
At this zenith I know I shall prevail.

Let this snow part
In mystical ways
On these slanted hills
So I can see the crystalline
Multiplicity of the days ahead.

Let this snow part . . .
To enrapture me
In its blistering light.

Sometimes pain
Is the only
Way to see again.

Let the snow part . . .
Me,
Make this heart
As crystalline as thee
Fractured, varied, never alike
Waiting in kind to
Splinter, multiply, and shine
All that see . . . me

Chasing the snow.

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