Reflection on a brief flurry of snow

Snow falls, and melts on touching ground
In a moment the air is clear and bright again
In a moment I’ve lost what I had found
It will come again, but when?

Elsewhere the snow lies crisp and deep
Elsewhere the icicles hang hard
I don’t know which clothes to cast, which to keep
What to rejoice in, what discard

Only looking back can choices be confirmed
Too close, too close now to know for sure
In the grave can consequences be unwormed
But til then our ignorance is pure

Pure as the snow or the wind’s scouring sound
Pure as a muddy footprint in frozen ground

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