You woke in the night to tell me that it had snowed,
and that I was the snow,
then you went back to sleep.

It was cold, and so in bed, arm around you
I pressed my heart into your back,
so ours were as close
as the snow and the earth.

In the morning, at the window,
I saw in your garden,
the white dazzle making mysteries
of commonplace things.

But the beauty of the day
could not disguise,
the wet fade I now knew was to come
when the weather changed.