I confess it: this morning, I forgot.
Barely half awake, I left our bed
to watch the snow come down. And what a sight!
The earth all ermine, no defiling blot
anywhere. The sky, yesterday lead,
had harvested its jasmines overnight.
Gone, the earliest green; but there was light
from where numberless twirling petals sped
bewildered. A ghostly circle burned
faintly behind their dance: the sun! Not dead:
struggling to shine, to thaw the wintry clot,
to feed the green for which, in life, you yearned.
How glad I was! And said so, as I turned—
still smiling—to my bed, where you were not.
Dominican-born Rhina P. Espaillat is a bilingual poet, essayist, short story writer, translator, and former English teacher in New York City’s public high schools. She has published 12 books and five chapbooks, has earned numerous national and international awards, and is a founding member of the Fresh Meadows Poets of NYC and the Powow River Poets of Newburyport, MA, where she now lives. Her most recent poetry collections are And After All and The Field.