The snow here has disappeared
so quietly, exactly as it fell.
I hardly heard it leaving; simply
turned and it was gone. The thickest,
greatest snow since forty years ago
is gone, and I can hardly tell
that it ever even happened. The hush
is still with us, a silent reverence
settled into our chests. I see
the occasional hard mound of a
memory of a man, perhaps his hand
or foot, and then I believe
in everything only dead people know--
soon there will be flowers where bare
but snow-flowered trees once stood.