After, there is a crystal stillness,
like in a dream seconds before it shatters
into waking light. Nothing moves.
Silence radiates up from hidden streets
broken only by the crack of limbs
beneath the heft of new snow.
Come morning the big plows
will raze this shimmering tableau
and everything will begin again.
For now, we watch from darkened windows,
unable to make a sound, to even breathe,
in fear of what small ruin we might bring.