Ashes
It shatters into ice-tray chips
That melt to ashes in the atmosphere,
Softly floating down to you.
Flakes landing in your front yard
Like the burning leaves of autumn,
But then blowing elsewhere
Caught in the breath of heaven’s air.
Can a child collect
The ashes of a heart
And roll a snowman on the lawn?
No answer is certain,
Not even the coming dawn,
And my wanderings, like the ash,
Wonder on and on.
