Eighty From Seventy-Eight

A snow ago this snow
was still spotted
with tree ash and seed hull
piled on the North Pole of the porch,
a snow smutch like an itch
you can't quite reach
hiding under new snow
that's come to its rescue
as surprise to a party.
This snow-ago snow
survives to accept survivors.
Seeds soot leaves my stares
are not just still there,
but perched on a patch
that's got higher.

Copyright © 2005 William Gass All rights reserved
from River Styx
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission