Dim snowbanks lying silent, white, and deep
on frozen landscapes, resting on the land
as hand will rest with love upon a hand
touched in the night too lightly to stir sleep
woke a boy’s eyes to snow, where visions seem
to open with a message for his heart
in a late snow’s untrodden morning art
which sends him drifting back in a snow dream,
abandoning blank tracts for sun and feet
to trample winter out, no less complete
that stirring seedbeds, moist west winds whipped stronger,
white rushing waters, tattered cloudbanks flying
swept in another season past denying
but let a boy dream snow a little longer.
