Sharp

snow flies
air high
with each slow graceful launch of slinking arms
muscles jumping under the winter coats

wrestle each other off the road
as if late nights and meters of powder can effortlessly erase
the composure of our almost adulthood, so tenuously crafted and maintained.

arm yourself
handstand on the train tracks
pull me from the snow after I sink above my waist
with a grasp as strong as an iron hook

Lie on our backs
an unlikely trio
staring at stars piercing like holes in tinfoil
as you complain about snow inside your pants
in the part between the cuff and your loose open boots

but your joy still drives you to knock a fluttering load off of the heavily laden trees with
one well-aimed
shot
Your friend asks the question
do you believe in God?

And suddenly the air turns still with quiet anticipation
Sickening
Did he envy our happiness?
the cold night air,
the chill as my breath exits my mouth
silence of the dark lofty trees muffled by mounds of snow, like cake batter, piled high in soft heapings
And I am compelled to speak of what we’ve never spoken before
Yes

feeling the gulf open, he replies
Me too

Because suddenly there was something too holy not to ignore, feeling lost in the silent sharply clear cold woods, in the middle of small town Finland, at 3AM on Christmas day.
Something between our closeness, still separated in our little cocoon-like snowbeds, and the distance from the stars.
We quiet ones soak in that warmth.

Finally we reverse our trail out of the trees and you want to play,
to toss snowballs and

cavort down the street.
it seems almost sacrilegious so
we walk patiently behind you,
watching

still stupefied from the intense intimacy of a few minutes ago
its soft reverent ooze sloshing bitterly against
the harsh yellow sheen of pooled street lights on the snowy road.
was it a reverie, almost a dream? but the shivers coursing through our veins from being stricken
give breath to its existence.

wander back on a clear wide road crunch the snow underfoot
shape the powder into fine vulnerable craters
follow the ridges in the treads of our boots weave valleys between the edges

I finally shake off my inquietitude as the first warm orange glow of Christmas stars
in the windows of nearby houses gleam into vision