Burial by Sky

As if they fear the sky will fall
today hemlocks, firs and pines
bend low with snow.
The sky stoops too in gray semi-tones
expecting gravity to mediate
between the thirsts of ground and sky.
As the first silent flakes of snow
escape ground-ward, ground and sky
dissolve their great divorce
in white infinity
covering yesterday's drop cloth with a new.

With monochromatic skill the sky gently falls
devoid of malcontent it merely hopes to hide
the penetrating greens and browns
beneath the gray dome of day.
Deceit, subtly woven lies,
belief that visibility confuses truth
support the unity of loss by burial.