A Winter Fugue

I thought I saw a flock of white birds

I thought I saw a flock
of white birds
lift from the streets 
outside our windows, lift
like the white gloves 
of a March conductor
dal niente out of silence
but then it was snow
and winter's final breath
making the fat flakes
dance. I thought I heard a laugh
that sounded like your laugh
on the pillow, 
like the creek laughing
beneath its ice 
but then it was wind
and the snow and the ice
like a winter fugue
played earnestly
and low to the ground.