Snow Falling On Moir

Snow falling soft on Moir,

Geddes plow ridges

banked with corner drift

sculpting slopes of earlier peaks

draped with whiteout swirls,

dust devil kin ranging foothills of frozen slush

backdropped by red brick walls

yellow filigrees of Victorian gables

sidewalk valleys unseen until scaled

flurry veils of white ghostings

chased around street corners

driven by wind gust, spiral curls

through boot-stomped open gaps

rise between hardened older snow

surveyed by us inside our coats and scarves;

fake fur hats and woolen toques pulled snug

before descending the crested embankments.

The snow still falling soft on Moir

barrier cliffs of ploughed up heights

scaled in felt-warmed boot steps

swirling corners coriolis

cresting drifts in slipstreams

sculpting curves as we climb

stomping steps into being:

a mittened hand in the other’s;

eyes on dangers beyond us

bootprint holes shared on the downside

made by those this way before us,

turned into hardened steps

and left for those who follow

Our eyes are ahead in the valley of drift

side peaks of snow ploughed, driving-cold wind

discovers ways inside us, hat scarved-ears

snugged down, huddled in, bent into the swirl

using each other to not slip on underfoot ice

in frozen imprints created by others:

variable strides alter ours as we

crush down soft places between

establishing a flattened path for others.

Snow is falling soft on Moir

once we return to it from around the block.