In spare silence and dying light
I lifted snowshoe over snowshoe
in snow so deep
the words on the stones could not be seen.
Since peace was all they had,
I touched no stone, swept no snow -
my wide tracks disturbance enough.

Some monuments for couples were bare of snow:
Names of men engraved with dates
while the women's names had none -
the smooth face of granite waiting ....
as the women who bore those names waited
in the village far below.

Flakes fell lightly on my tracks,
as I turned to go.
My wife has two plots for us,
but in Death, I will take the Pacific for my bride -
my ashes drifting to the water low,
more softly than the falling snow.


						Brandywine
						1/7/98