It is strange
how snow makes food
out of everything!
Scattered across desert plains,
it anoints little sand stones
and monumental rocks.
But all I'm envisioning
are frosted pastries,
and coffee cakes cloaked
in generous icing.I am either poetic or hungry.
And snow in the sky
is another thing:
it flies,
carrying the wind.
One flake
crashes upon my nose,
and in heaven
an angel must be missing
a sequin.
Published in Isaac (1997)
