Winter Observation

Besides, mostly I wanted to watch the snow.
     Rather than paint water on a stone,

I turned to frozen air for ephemera:
     what better sutras than slow corkscrews

and sideways swoops and sudden exaltations
     inspired by a physics beyond me?

What isn’t also something else? The gray light
     grows grayer, snow settles, one presses

one’s fingertips to panes to make sure the world
     remains as cold as one remembers.

I’m told too much paper on the grate creates
     feathers of ash that drift past the flue 

and brickwork of the chimney where they can set
     the whole roof on fire. Nothing is safe.

Stephen Kampa is the author of three books: Cracks in the Invisible, Bachelor Pad, and Articulate as Rain. He appeared in Best American Poetry 2018. He teaches at Flagler College.

Published February 28 2022