Ozymandias

I have come to realize in the past months that I find no greater peace of mind than in watching the snow fall.
I have come to find something stirring,
some humble majesty, some humble joy in letting
the snowflakes lift me beyond the pavement upon which I stand into
Another beautiful day worthy of raising my eyes to the sky,
away from the pavement, away from the earth.

I forget the cold, the sting of melting flakes upon my neck and cheeks
I forget, only to remember days of clearer, less tranquil skies,
sunsets where you and me and everyone we used to know sat in broken circles
and gushed our loves and dreams to everyone, everywhere
and anywhere out of the world
while the band played Waltzing Matilda.

Perhaps it’s one of those things I never noticed–as a young man from Southern California, a change of seasons, for one.
Like the still-warm day in October when I finally realized it was autumn
and my flip-flopped feet sifted through the first scattered leaves upon grass
Like December as the snow fell like October’s leaves
and my booted feet fell through layers of fresh snow
with the most satisfying sound

Like February as I walked upon fields of ice
and stood under the shadows of trees,
branches still mockingly clinging to leaves brown and frail
which yet survive, sneering at me
even as I stare across the desolace
and dream of Ozymandias.