Snow Day, December 19th, 2024
by
Radiance Angelina Petro

Having devoted so much of their lives
to contemplation, sometimes trees fall on houses.
The person who maps out graveyards

goes home each night to his candles and books of Rilke.
How many of our meanderings have been
under the buzzard’s gaze?

The grandfather’s headstone absorbs so much
stillness it becomes it’s own winter.
Who among us carries an unruffled heart?

And how long can the wear and tear of the mountains
go on? There’s no locking the door to regrets,
and no guarding secrets from the ceiling, the kitchen table,

or the refrigerator’s hum. Listen, Radiance, there’s nothing
to attain, and why shut the gates to desire?
One day the envelope of your body will open

sending unfinished love letters into the sky. Why not
finish them now, and send them winging
to their rightful owner’s door?