Patricia M. Twining-Obarski
Works

First Snow

The shade of the Winter Sky is moonstone

The first snowfall cascades

Sight is softened, sound subdued

Streetlights beacon like silver lodestars

We venture into the night

Snow conceals the hidden ice

On curving pathways, unseen,


You rush heedless into the heart of open field

A sheath of snow veils

The furrows of corn stubble beneath the white mantel

You shape, pack snowballs, between your hands

Pitch a volley into the tangled brambles

Soft powder unloosed from the boughs

Reverently, I stay on the path

Unwilling to tread on unblemished spaces

Pure, cleansed, inviolate


A season later, a winter’s night,

I gaze through a window, frost encrusted,

Waiting for the first snow to descend

Though you are gone from me now

I still refer to you in present tense

Imagine: you are traveling

Some distant, foreign land

Finding yourself at a mountain ashram retreat

Soon, you will return enlightened


A shrine of photographs arranged

Carefully on a set of sturdy shelves

A memorial preserving youth

Will dreams inform me?

Finish all that was unsaid

Should I be seeking a sign?


Ice-locked branches rattle in the wind

A tremolo like the ringing of a Sanctus Bell

Boughs of fir, snow-heavy, genuflect

In sacred procession, I reverently trek

Into the heart of an open field

The corn stubble buried below

The urn of ashes, I scatter

Mixing and mingling into the falling flakes of snow