Advent Snow

It’s cold enough for snow to settle
on lawn and roofs and streets.

It’s rare that even streets are white:
The ploughs take Sunday off.

White static foregrounds all around us.
Words like ‘muffled’ come

–and will go in time no doubt.
Peace in our time, no more.

Our time: This moment or perhaps
this day and night, no more.

The forecast has a warm front coming.
Snow will turn to rain.

Somewhere a new war is spawning.
It will send battles our way.

We will forget this peaceful moment
but for now, it’s here.

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