Midwinter

Midwinter

For too long
This bride
Has been with us.

Though her gown
Yet sparkles,
Its pure
Unblemished
Whiteness
Has received the mark
Of frequent tramplings
Made upon it
And has become stained.

Though her gown
Yet covers the earth,
The smooth undulations
And curves
Of underlying shapes
Have given way
To jagged edges
Made of ice
And to the lumpiness
Of unfamiliar forms.

The hem is tattered
And the sleeves dissolve.
There are gaping holes.

Significant amounts
Of new snow
Could repair
The whole
But would not restore
The pristine
Loveliness,
The bouffant
Glory
Of a gown
Unsullied
By the necessities
Attendant
On the passage
Of time.