For a New Year
It snowed on Christmas Day as if to hide
our impositions–boot prints in the garden,
junk cars and broken bottles in the woods.
(Year after year the soft earth partly hardens,
partly blows away like desert sand,
diminished by life like a star worn down by stardom.)
Next morning the children fluttered angels in a row,
then rose like a new year from their cold forms,
their eyes bearing the brightness of the snow.