Storm-stayed in Amherst. Guess whose nose
presses on the pane? The Belle rummages
in her mind for a little fugue on infinity.
Wild night after wild night of spangled air
and woolly lawn. She may lose her mind.
Riven, she pens lines of love for two,
for Master and for Sue (how glittering
they shone). Sun fills up the room.
Suddenly the snow is gone.
About this Poem
From the sequence “A Brief History of Snow” from Joanne Page's book Watermarks: Poems (c2008), published by Pedlar Press.