Winter Amnesties

Clearing the Ground

3 Clearing the Ground Everything cold can teach. —william stafford First month, month I was born in Far from this day That stays stuck at zero, Quicksilver settled in the glass; Far from this starspray of frost And the flakes that come down so slow They’re like a phrase suspended At the end of arguments, white lies We all learn to believe in . . . As I have learned, midway, To put behind me The rock salt and early grievances, And let the sun plunge Down pinwheel collisions of the snow, Until the dizzy spokes speed up The late hours lost in storm, In point-by-point evasions of the light. This is the mineral spin of winter, A world of hard water Seeking its own level: nothing Stands in its way. This is where I will start from, night of no moon, And the wind with its cold drone Over snow, dragging the dark behind it, A pedal point of deprivation That steadies all the shifting keys. ...