Where there is heaven and earth,
Heaven is cold—we measure its worth
By snow on churches melting in April.
Ice covered branches are beautiful.
The hope is the ice will be gone soon.
Where there is earth, there is only June
And summer’s false, sunny promise of green:
Death. In summer, heaven is no longer seen.
In the autumn, mortal earth rebels;
The liquid ripening of curling husks and shells
Fills up hunger with eternity.
We eat duplication ravenously.
Now snow falls on the churches again.
In spring, between earth and heaven,
Heaven gives us the bad news. We know
Heaven, too, is false. Like earth. Like snow.