There are clumps of snow dropping out of the sky. We’re not talking snowflakes here. They’re finger-sized, they fit in a cupped palm. They land heavily. The air isn't white: it's blotting paper. Maybe this is what a snowpocalypse looks like.
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- 1: One to sing and one to haul and one to heave me when I fall
- 2: We're the ones who stand here now, but many others will again
- 3: Cormorant to rock, gulls from the storm
- 4: On the edge and off the avenue
- 5: Afghanistan banana stand
- 6: She was an excellent governess and a most respectable woman
- 7: The dark sleek heads are risen from the water
- 8: And the shrouds hum full of the gale of the grave and the keel goes out to the sea
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