By
Aetre
For a moment in
time, the world is up side down
The house on the
hill is floating
And the snow on
the ground is dispersing:
Tiny white
grains, rough as the sand, smooth as the surf
Prepare to fall
to earth
Yet again
For a moment in
time, the world is turned upright
The house on the
hill is standing
And the snow in
the air is descending:
Tiny white
flakes, cold as a fish, sharp as a quill
Prepare to
blanket the hill
Yet again
How many times
has that house on the hill
Experienced the
wind and the chill of the snow?
And how, even
now, does it stand, light the world
As that one
place of warmth to which all people go:
To rest
themselves by the nighttime fires
And not feel
tossed and turned; they stay still,
Though the globe
may be spinning, and at new day’s beginning,
There exist only
snowflakes, the house, and the hill.