OEM?

A kind of snow, which hesitates
That images of roads, whether composed
That this mud draws on the stone.
for a few weeks, statistics won't seem
Glimmering of light:
Stunned in their voiceless way to be alive
Stars, the last day, endless and centerless,
What is there in the depths of these walls
And half-starved foxes shake and paw
Suddenly, in a savage, dreadful bend,
In the dread circle hemmed by glaciers,
I might have happily lived some other childhood.
In dense bare branches, or the ubiquitous
This drizzling three-day January thaw,
My only thought is for what has
This gap in time, this season not their own,
A kind of snow, which hesitates
Again awaken from your being gone to find
Silent patch of ultimate paint. You are