Snow falling soft on Moir,
Geddes plow ridges
banked with corner drift
sculpting slopes of earlier peaks
draped with whiteout swirls,
dust devil kin ranging foothills of frozen slush
backdropped by red brick walls
yellow filligrees of Victorian gables
sidewalk valleys unseen until scaled
flurry veils of white ghostings
chased around street corners
driven by wind gust, spiral curls
through boot-stomped open gaps
rise between hardened older snow
surveyed by us inside our coats and scarves;
fake fur hats and woolen toques pulled snug
before descending the crested embankments.
The snow still falling soft on Moir
barrier cliffs of ploughed up heights
scaled in felt-warmed boot steps
swirling corners coriolis
cresting drifts in slipstreams
sculpting curves as we climb
stomping steps into being:
a mitttened hand in the other’s;
eyes on dangers beyond us
bootprint holes shared on the downside
made by those this way before us,
turned into hardened steps
and left for those who follow
Our eyes are ahead in the valley of drift
side peaks of snow ploughed, driving-cold wind
discovers ways inside us, hat scarved-ears
snugged down, huddled in, bent into the swirl
using each other to not slip on underfoot ice
in frozen imprints created by others:
variable strides alter ours as we
crush down soft places between
establishing a flattened path for others.
Snow is falling soft on Moir
once we return to it from around the block.
