A Lullaby for Snow
swing low and sway to the shadow’s
lengthening slant
light ray leaning
east settling into repose
intervals
holding the hush
my darling of the exhaling
breath of day
pause and inhale and hold
a bit longer
exhausted light of this day saved
from the ever hungering
all emptying all
swaddling darkness. Open my dear one
the lights of your eyes to this
chilled to this
charred black
with the white sparks
sway to the swing of the seasons
falling swath of lingering
half lit crystal
slow descending from above
from the all
from the over the open empty of
heaven feathered floating flakes of
warmed and whited snow
resting on eyelids closed and
murmuring
my love rocking you
love lulling you to
the wakefulness
of sleep
David Banach thinks and writes in New Hampshire, watching his chickens and bees and the lessons lurking in the sky. Into Camus and Dostoevsky, Weil and Levinas, truths that can’t be said and sayings that can’t be true. You can read their poetry most recently at Hooligan Magazine, Evocations Review, Last Leaves, Non-Binary Review, and October Hill. He also does the Poetrycast podcast for Passengers Journal.