Nuptial Snow

Did you catch it, that squall of a nuptial bed?

The acorns’ flew to mountains overhead

keen to be laughing it off, our bounteous ridge

shrugs like new winters off the sundering bridge.

Like easterly passing, like coming again:

is it too light for the morn, or is it easing the rain?

I love you like yesterday, yet perhaps even more

now that our moments are mastered, our heavens adored.

Still waters run, beckon, yet pieces are fraught

to the times left uncertain, to the evenings unsought

by flights or fantasy, by this evening charade

when the peace is now certain, en le passade.