"The snow began here this morning and all day continued, its white rhetoric everywhere calling us back to why, how, whence such beauty and what the meaning; such an oracular fever!
flowing past windows, an energy it seemed would never ebb, never settle less than lovely!
and only now, deep into night, it has finally ended.
The silence is immense, and the heavens still hold
a million candles: nowhere the familiar things: stars, the moon,
the darkness we expect and nightly turn from.
Trees glitter like castles of ribbons, the broad
fields smolder with light, a passing creekbeb lies heaped with
shining hills; and though the questions that have assailed us all day
remain - not a single answer to be found - walking out now into the
silence, and the light under the trees, and through the fileds,
feels like one."
Under the light ...