And then the snow.
We ran inside.
You cried, as I recall,
the tears lingering
longer than the snow
that streaked its sobs
across the window-pane.
The fire laughed,
then we laughed, too,
until laughter and tears
mingled, setting us free
to doubt which was which.
We groped into the dark
as the flames darted and fell.
In the morning
we scattered ashes
down the path’s purity
to offset the danger
of falling.
