without a doubt

heaven was bursting
last night and it snowed down color.
shameless bitter cherries dropped and the fig trees
were bare, the cracking skins of their fruit
revealing deep red flesh and seed and
drifting too from the sky.  ripe coming after flowering, 
they were naked in the storm.  the blizzard.

not questioning.

the kaleidoscoped landscape deepening
vividly made motion and
without doubting
that it was not whiteness settling
coldly,  motion was and

standing alone
in the night and then dawning.
the chartreuse
pears and plums hued of healing bruises
and those apples flashing their gardens
were all falling from above.

absence of color had been and
it was a familiar sterile clean and
its brilliance its lack blinded.  and

wishing now
for expected elements
would be wishing for a powdery
disintegration.  of skeletal structure.  and
for the chiseling of frozen into snowflakes
so pretty and so exclusive.

and made from very bones.