Rampaging Baboon Nebula in Forever Falling Snow

Once everyone accepted the heat
Was rising, its consequences dire,
There had to be a weird exception—

In this town where it started to snow
Scarcely past the first day of autumn,
The universe decided to snap.

Here it would never not snow again.
Performing chores keeps a ghost alive,
God roaring inside, afraid to be

Alone. No, not afraid. Dreading chores,
The gift of responsibility,
The way they can appear from nowhere,

Just turn up, from nothing to be done
To a list as long as your old arm
And a twist in the belly that says

Even the cancer objects to this.
Well, if it’s going to keep snowing,
At least here in this narrow canyon,

Best to move the wood stove to the top
Of the list of what has to be fixed.
The evening is white all afternoon.

There’s an oversized, glossy journal
Of deep-space photography sitting
On the bookshelf not far from the stove.

This issue’s garish cover photo,
NGC 6727,
The Rampaging Baboon Nebula.