Siss like leaves
Churning leaves
On May-June wings,
But really all the kisses
Of ice on bare trees.

Wind (with a cartoon curl in it
And bedsheet ghost in it
going oOoO through branches
reaching over your body to put out streetlights
without saying goodnight
(deliberately))
shimmers with static particles
Like the TV kind that perspire in waves
Up and down the spine of sand dunes
Or on a sheet of puddle in a stagnant place
Where little waterbugs disrupt the surface
By impressing themselves upon the water.

When I look at the untouched plain of snow
settled on the road, I cannot tell if the motion I see
Is powder contacting powder
Or the shadow of the snow.