Big chunks of snow are falling from the branches
Heavy with the burden of multiple handshakes with the heavens
G-d is a woman she isn’t weeping anymore
She roars silently white leopardess-ness her growl a handless clock-face new moon her
Time is now, to fly and then fall all around
Until the rise - condensation-cry, cursive immersion
They don’t teach script anymore in school
It occured to me that less and less will
Scholars coming up be able to connect distances between expressiveness
Between thoughts and ideas and feelings
Between the numbing of violence and the aching that follows
Between the borderless nations of reason and expectation
I muse as I try not to slip on 48 hrs of freshly fallen snow
Slush just beginning to grow gardens of grey
Between the orange hazard signage on paved crosswalkways
So many things to look out for how to be prepared for inclemency in all directions beginning to feel
Like it’s always been this way
But let’s remember clearly that of course it hasn’t
Я тебя люблю are words I used to reserve for lovers
Or maybe the best of friends and family it kept them sacred
It kept the enormity of loyalty from being too expansive to carry
But now I say it freely to the sky and the trees always
But also to you who not too long ago I’d say
I barely knew but I know you well enough now to aver
Whatever the outcome of this, of us, Это любовь between
Your faraway fingertips and my mountaintop, your moon and my shore
