Blue White Snow Night

The blue white snow hardens

beneath impossibly cold still air

Along the edge of a once stubbly corn field

Gingerly

I walk trying not to leave a trace

half my mind watching the shadows of the tree line

watching me

Nothing moves

Nothing could

Except me

There is

cold nothing,

still nothing,

white and black only

alone

Alone

In the vastness of nothing

I have found immensity

The terror of which is the

unchanging sameness

I know blue white snow

I know the certainty of the meaning of its terror

I know I am a

Fragile warm-blooded heat seeker

trying to pass shadows thrown on

Blue white snow

Slipping passed the cornfield, I come to an old cemetery

And

I am not surprised.