Poetry
First Snow
James G. Koch
It was the most opportune
Moment
For the beginning of winter—
The first few
Reticent flakes of snow
Flecked from thick folds
Of your hair
As you rose half asleep
At two a.m.,
Abandoning the closeness
Of this narrow bed
For that distance you love
But cannot wholly abide.
When I came to wake you
For classes,
The flurries were slowly
Dispersing the darkness.
"Is it love or the desire to love
That keeps us going?" I asked
As you woke with a twinge
Of surprise, skidding
Out of the ritual incongruity
Of your dreams
Into the bleak snow-webbed
Light—into winter
With all its visible uncertainty.