A Mirror in the Snow

Forest gave no answer—
branches bowing under
last night’s weight,
as if each limb had tried
to speak
and couldn’t.

I found it there:
a mirror face-up in snow,
rimmed with rust,
its mouth of silver
open
but still.

It caught the sky,
no birds
checked their feathers.

I stood awhile over it.
Watched my breath belong
to that silver quiet.
I walked on.

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