Revolution

Snow muffles all,
Bundles up the summer’s
Wool in its silent fall
Like down feathers

Wrapped around the trees,
Like the tiny glass you shake
That dumbly frees
Those lurking flakes

Which lie like dust
Around the dome’s domestic forms,
A still life just
Before the winter storms,

The blizzard breezes
Of the restless wrist,
Frozen plastic friezes
From space’s quantum twist:

A sleight of hand
Where violent men
Make the shook world
Still again.

December 14th, 1991