the crunch of snowshoes sounds loud
like a yell in a chapel
but how else worship this new world
trees dressed in snow
the space between them carpeted in snow
except to snowshoe out into it
out beyond the clearing
out of sight of the cabin
until you are briefly
a new Adam on a new earth
if I could, this is the world I would bring you
so new and so clean that snowshoe prints
are needed to make our claim on it
but I live in the city where snow almost dare not fall
and when it does, it turns grey and brown in the air
it turns oily and acid on the ground
we have made our environment into a reflection of us
and defy our mothers that we will not clean it up
not even tidy it, no gods demand it of us
no gods powerful enough to punish us
we, we, have caged the world and tamed it
and now we will teach it to ride a bicycle
and wear a party hat
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