Snow Globe

Better to sink in a snow globe
to drown in heaped memory
drifts capsized face-down
in flaked mindscapes
with time a crystalline still life
strung on icicle trimmed gables
overhanging the gingerbread valances

Of a frosty white Queen Anne house
With luring black welcome mat
greeter front door wreath
bewitched evergreen
where rooms never shrink small
where walls never crack crumble
when the trusses of life cease to quiver

While the beloved dead quicken
to linger on and on
walking the garden path of eternity
with legs never to wax weary
their warm voices
like sacred veils waving to point the way

Giving ear you find your place
at the pine supper table
to sit shoulder to shoulder
forearms crossing
bridges passing pickled beets,
butter beans,
German potato cake,
and gravy tureen

Better to sink in a snow globe
to stand earth-sky on her head
that all be powdered and cleansed
a shake of the hand
you go home forever and again

© 2004 Linda L. Bielowski, Ph.D.

Linda welcomes your comments!