City of Snow

(Montreal)

The city rides a cobalt river, glints warning of turmoil and perpetual winter

from its extinct volcano perch excels at mighty blizzard depths and flake lace tablecloths, at treacherous dustings over ice and white swirling columns, blinding and same as those which hoodwinked Champlain in the time of beaver skin trades

During dark months, softly overnight, snow arrives, redecorates, frosted slum becomes morning wedding cake, grass-roofs-trees-streets wear one white sugar coat

When citizens awake they tromp through scenes as monochrome as old Brownie prints, and kids build over-their-heads forts while fathers dig lanes from homes to carports

Soft layers land light, impartial, on assassins, on children, and on the stone walls of Saint Sulpice— cloak spite, conceal divisions, clean filth, rebirth this city

Big snows silence the city— a welcome silence, so even birds know to be quiet— usher with flake upon flake a hush for the city, my city, riding the cobalt river

a hush for the island of storm

I sit and think of snow