Diamond Dust

The snow gathered itself in the drowsy pines
and bare knuckled oaks all night, apparently.
I was asleep.
It settled in our local woods under a new moon
midnight like news about to come knocking:
cancer, in the throat.
Or like an epiphany about to break the surface
of your sea:
God has a sense of humor, too.

If you would join me at the window now,
we see the morning, very clear skies, blue and
new and alive because there is a lot of wind today
and all that snow that fell fluffy and mysterious
from heaven broke when it landed – every flake
shattered into its icy atomic pieces blowing now
in this diamond dust storm – can you see the
refractions, dazzling and uncountable? It’s just
a Thursday, it’s just light and water that froze and fell
and is raised up on the gusty breath of our February
now, but it is beautiful, worth a moment’s watching
and remembering here together at the frosty window,
our cancers gnawing, our God smiling.