Wonder Flies of Snow

Every hour will evanesce,
And you will, and we will, once
You’ve left, although only you

Will not transform, will vanish
As you came, and nothing left,
That is, unless meaning’s left.

A fly, or is it an ant,
Wandering along your skin
Interrupts dreams. You forget

Everything you were dreaming,
Everything that meant so much,
Created such strong feelings

Of anger, joy, or regret
In the dream, and you even
Forget which feelings you felt.

Turn on the lamp, there’s no fly
Or ant anywhere in sight,
But now there’s a fluttering

Like a trapped moth’s wings, behind
A snow-white wooden dresser.
You move the cabinet, but

You don’t see anything there.
Might as well get up, get dressed.
Two hours later, in the dark

That is the universe whole,
Dark with minor points of light,
There’s a flicker here and there

In the stars, like the effect
Capra used to suggest talk
Among the angels, small throbs

Almost like distant lightning,
But there’s no storm and no clouds,
And there’s nothing explaining.