geometry

Geometry

Dry windows shutting out the sunshine
Cold windows shutting out the air:
Who cares?
The snowflakes don't:
Leaping in friendly breezes
Whirling gaily through the azure veil
Riding the Bifrost along slanting sunbeams
Which twist and turn the scattered bits of fluff
Into geometric parodies
Of a blackboard's conics.

Why should they care?
They live for the moment,
And in a moment, and forever
Elapses in the time
Between their falling
And their fall;
Fragile hexagons
Born of chalkboard dust
And dreams
Encapsuled in each tiny matrix
And by their own passage
Dissipated.

A white voice emerges
Reciting conics
And mutilated hexagons
With a rusty chalkstick
On a green board.

But the dreams somehow linger
In drifts
And forts
And icicles stuffed down another's sweater
And soft white heaps of sugar running
Stickily from maple trees
And carrot nose
And corncob pipe
Above a tweed jacket.

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