Old Snow

Long before light he wakes
and crosses the chill slate floor.

He opens the door to the snow; a little
cataract falls and shatters.

This snow, the same since ages
of the wild ox and mammoth, is the first

deep snow that will inspire him.
He leaps, and cannot see its surface;

with all the levers of his body leaps again.
He touches, sifts and shivers - and now runs

through the moon-pale house to the big bed,
and tumbles into the middle space.

The seed from which he grew
contained the joy of snow.