THE SNOW

for Courtney Martin (New Year’s Eve 2009)

Dad’s Buddha
clad in
a tank-top
of fresh snow
accepts our laughter
as later the rumble
strip filled with ice
chimes back to us
its long silver ribbon
this is how weather wakes
such drowsing heads to blossom
like a Christmas tree worm
slowly creeps back to frill
the world is as full
of jokes as the snowflake is
stuffed with miraculous and banal charm
like the flying farolito that streaks
past a lone and baffled coyote
these mysteries persist at song’s loss
and return when our eyes unfurl
and the you you were
is suddenly less and more
full like the sky is
in the ache before dawn
we’ll put on our boots
our hat and gloves
breathe a little smoke
there is no death
out of reach
as John says
there is only
this hiss
before broadcast