"Ode Written in Winter" - Ry Downey

Flecklings of snow flicker

past the light above the street

illuminating the snow globe world

of this winter night. A blanket thrown 

over the surface of the world.

As far as the eye can see 

the reaching fingers of trees etched

against a sky that isn't black but grey.

The ambient night lights no longer

orange or yellow but white 

and so midnight looks like dawn.

Where are you or you or you tonight 

while the white blanket piles outside? 

Stuck in my orange cocoon

as I look at my children's toy world. 

Sleds and snowmen and sickles

of ice decorate what I thought was dead.

Wonder bled from me, now comes rushing

back like emerging from a coma

or realizing in a flash that you're in love. 

Epiphanies that the future is a lie

decorate my window like fingers

of frost creeping from the corners. 

Are you stuck inside your own cocoon

or snowbank or are you in the desert

with the bird who flew south?

I don't know him. Who is he?

Searching for your words traveling 

on the wind, a moon has filled 

and emptied since the last time we talked.

I want your words piling up around me.

Are you almost done with your book,

words I might be able to bring to bed

in lieu of you? I'm afraid I waited too long.

The wrong mountains are saying my name

calling me home. I wanted them to be yours. 

My snow globe world...it isn't yours.

Snow moves with wind, now sideways

and with every flake I see our fates

acted out in full display. 

We are like the flakes, strips of confetti,

a frozen ticker tape parade. 

Who is your hero? Can it be me?

I am snow. So are you. I land here.

You land there. And still no matter

where we are, it's not unbeautiful. 

Lights pulse and the beating heart

quickens the closer you get to home.

-feb 9 2019, seattle wa-