A Flock of My Days by Ammons

A flock of my days
either gone already or to
come rises up
in a flurry and flies into
setting off
a maelstrom descent, whirlpool bloom
with a fine hollow stem figuring for a
bottomless source

in yesterday's dusk hickory,
a flicker black on skylight,
not a grackle but a
  robin! the behavior exact,
  year's first!
pecking his breast, grooming,
regarding the groundcover of 
snow unsharply
(but today the temp is to go
to 60, worm raising weather)

yesterday when melt was
commencing late
in the afternoon
one icicle with a fringehold
on the eaves
waved back and forth
as if hinged,
its hold become so light

but now this morning
the temperature nearing fifty
the eaves rain with
melt, rooftiles starting to show
radiance's darkness
(too much light on too much snow)

I guess the lady next door
when she had the elm thinned
from the thicket
didn't know
snow would cap a hemispheric cone
on the left stump

they say it took some days
for the cries in No Man's Land
to die down: first
  there was a noise
  of pain
  but a few dawns and dusks
  settled things
down to here and there
a filament of dissent
and then the dawn came wherein
the peace was incredible

                   (A.R. Ammons)

From the Book: Snow Poems

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