"snowrise"

in tints of palest grey to white
like dust of smoke from deep blank
sky fell blanketing and crystalline.
As thick as thieves of hues from eye.
The river bridge and trees surrounding
huddle frozen etched and dry in silver
on a glassy plate. It looks a hundred
years ago, as deep and colorless
as fate - and as we look we are bled
white. And feel how cold we aren't
inside. And smile as ghosts on
windowpane, unknowing which
side was alive.