Snow blankets the slow horizon, each moment is snow’s breath, we are caught in its light, these clouds above the thickening ground.

Can we see the heart of this silence on the night due under windows? All the echoes of stories stay deep, as waters yield to the call of the stars over fabric, light across our shoulders.

We move, suddenly we areheld, by this sweet white rising towards the true. Each shape of night will bring the earth, carefully soft, covered for the day to come.

• Muriel Rukeyser