Billy Would Have Said It Was Okay

The clouds and mountain blurred in whiteness
except for the tippiest tops of evergreens
which refused to be swallowed by anything
having made it so far and high. 
And so rolling across the middle of this white sky
a pale grey definite articulation of a line
hovering between two worlds
like some alternate point of view horizon.

And I was going to go outside onto the snow-dusted path
and I did in my husband’s big thick socks
until the cold broke through my feet
and I thought to bundle up and plant myself out there
observe what I’d come all this way to see
but there was a wood-paneled library downstairs
and a hot cup of coffee
and plus my dear late night friend Billy
had only ever fished the Susquehanna in a painting
and I am fairly certain would have said it was okay.