Jupiter rules the night
in the long parade
of far off suns
shining in the deep dark,
the same winter sky
my mother walked beneath,
her feet in drifting snow,
the quiet all around her
down the steep hill
to the subway el,
walking toward my birth.
She was dressed nicely
as she always was.
She didn’t mind
the cold wet snow;
she was going to deliver.
Huge white flakes
covered the cobble stones,
the streets and sidewalks,
blanketing her with quiet,
her happiness and fear full
down the Marble Hill,
my mother and father
alone in the falling snow
with me urging them,
a presence within her
as they walked on
under street lights
in the January snow.