Worlds without Winter

What do worlds with no winter do,

Not burned pure by visions of light,

No clean slaughter-knife of cold

Carving away concupiscence?

What do worlds with no winter do,

No crystal branches, fairy-white,

No silky folds in the landgown,

No fallen stars flashing underfoot?

What do worlds do, always juicy

Brown and wet, lascivious green,

Palm-treed and sandy, oiled tanned,

Where every breath slips painless home?

They become California.

We’re glad you’re enjoying First Things

Create an account below to continue reading.

Or, subscribe for full unlimited access

 

Already a have an account? Sign In