Apr. 22

the snow is a river

blind as april as summerless    

pouring down the meadow

the world ends at the south ridge

all distance gone

it snows

though blood trilliums have bloomed in the woods

the sun casts tree shadows on the fallen snow 

but still snow flows down the mountain

blown on the wind like a river

whirled into eddies like a river 

down and down

Mumma Yaga