Snow in May
Fat flakes fell,
first softly
then faster, furiously,
covering the shrine’s tin roof,
clustering in patches
on the sodden ground.
We hoped, impossibly,
for a blanket thick enough
to silence our footfalls.
But sun tumbled through
heavy slate clouds
and snow turned to rain
under a blue-mottled sky.
Out of this strange wild beauty,
what remains?
Wet diamonds scattered
in green pines,
soft gray clouds
with sun-gilt edges,
a memory of white
on decaying leaves.
MJ Moore lives in Richmond, California, a few blocks from San Francisco Bay. Her first book of poems, Topography of Dreams, was published by Blue Light Press in 2020. She is working on her second book.
Fat flakes fell,
first softly
then faster, furiously,
covering the shrine’s tin roof,
clustering in patches
on the sodden ground.
We hoped, impossibly,
for a blanket thick enough
to silence our footfalls.
But sun tumbled through
heavy slate clouds
and snow turned to rain
under a blue-mottled sky.
Out of this strange wild beauty,
what remains?
Wet diamonds scattered
in green pines,
soft gray clouds
with sun-gilt edges,
a memory of white
on decaying leaves.
MJ Moore lives in Richmond, California, a few blocks from San Francisco Bay. Her first book of poems, Topography of Dreams, was published by Blue Light Press in 2020. She is working on her second book.
