Sift

The snow just floated down today
Sky’s old-fashioned flour sifter, 

Sometimes, lately, though,

Heaven’s crowded 

With too much:

Nor’easters and derechos 

Polar vortex and the drought 

And even though you’d always 

Lived among the elements, you 

Find you’re not prepared

Detaching doesn’t mean a thing

It just creates the space 

For breathing, watching 

And for listening

You watched all day from

Windows here and there 

Around the house, looking 

Far out to the pond, 

Back to the barns, 

To the gardens in the old

Stone beds out there,

A crazy certain light

Surrounded everything 

Inside the house, outside, 

And as the hours 

Passed in clear grey and 

Grey-gold light,

Snow sifted down, 

Pinwheeling,

Sometimes flurrying in

The windies from the lakes

A solitary calm came knocking.

You ticked off the things that can’t 

Remain unsaid, untended and

Undone; the smaller world

Awakes, the sextant spins, 

And hovering, 

Your latitude comes into 

View; you always knew

As viewshed cleared 

That creating all that

Space the way you did was worthy, 

Had integrity. 

You notice that the season 

Is trying to be passing; these

Rugged springs test your 

Wintered homeostasis,

But snow sifted all the morning, 

All the afternoon,

Just sifted down, descending

Somehow you’re seeing, and you’re 

Feeling now, a

Shifting of the balance 

Odd, the simple lifting 

Life of earth and air and winds, the 

Water swirls to snow. 

It is soft comment, gentle.

You read about how grasses grow,

And how to heal a nasty gash,

You fuss with your old dogs,

And think about the garden,

Coming soon, you think about 

Your friends, your family.

It is just

That kind of snow.