Just last month
the avalanches like good women
were headed for a downfall. I saw one
throw back her head
and let go of the world.
No more free soup bones for that one.
No more faces of friends at the door
with doilies and lace,
with ivory charms
carved of the elephant’s great collapse.
Once an avalanche makes up her mind
not to cling,
there’s no more covering up the cliff face
and hiding the truth,
and in her breakdown
she knows everything
and knows what she knows
about the turning wheel of earth,
love, markets, and even the spring
coming soon with its wildflowers.