Snow

We sat on the mountain edge

As the moon broke and fell

In blizzard pieces

on the knife back ridge

Sitting in white banks

On the baroque peak

Filling our cistern

With shards of hope 

But the next day

The Sun showed

Its scorching face

Melting the moon

And burning the mountain

Pandora’s box ruptured

Hope fluttered meekly

Away, with the ruined moon

I sit on the mountain edge

Staring at the black spot

The moon used to fill

Praying for Pure light

Once again