First Snow Moon

Up in the morning to the familiar hum of appliances

the electrical grid out there keeping lights on

melting glaciers, warming oceans, acidifying winter

but this view now is freshly made by Sky herself

unhaunted by irony or industrial loss & damage

dawn offers a glimpse of unguarded intimacy

quiet & pointless as sleep or dream

backyard garden border in repose: an orange marigold

every direction capped by three fingers of icy snow

for a brief eon, this is the pure land

the cracked trash bins, the alluvium of toys & tools

each car & truck on the block a shrouded mendicant

still as Shakyamuni under a springtime ficus

simply being alive to being alive

& then

just as the world becomes a clean prism

sun begins the warm work of making mud