Snow falls and fills a valley
till the house fills with snow light
more clear more exact
than the usual musky dayligh
where a little tenderness
waits like pencilled hatching
just to the side of things

that favourite chair or the crooked
table polished by dailiness
is laid bare snow light
coming in from all sides looks
straight through the prism frankly
curious there is no myth
it says to equal this account

of surfaces and presences
it's an old story but we
live in it you and I
the snow light mentions as it comes
in making itself at home
among the chairs and the small
piles of books

Fiona Sampson’s latest book is In Search of Mary Shelley. These poems are from the forthcoming Come Down (Little, Brown, Feb 2020).