Like Footsteps In The Snow Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Oh, longevity of a cathedral,
And paper snowflakes wishing you were
Here, just as stewardesses, yawning,
Step out onto tarmacs,
Like flowers in their high basins:
There is nothing evil or
Supernatural about them, and yet they
Exist outside of books:
You can scramble up the long side of heaven
To reach them,
And call them the verbs of epiphany:
They will kiss you- They will even make
Love to you for just as long as
The lions roar:
But then they recognize you as but a tourist
Once again, and they take you
Down from their suckling bosom
And set you like a fox at the door
Far from their orchards where their brown
Stems grow,
As the clouds cover up their summits,
Like footsteps in the snow.