Nothing has a name it can'tthinking about dealing with change. The title of this posting is related to one of her oft quoted poems also from the same collection - Snow Watcher - that I picked up by chance in Saratoga Springs when I was there for work - the full version being:
slip out of. The waterfall is solid ice
by late November; the white pines
vanish under snow that's
blue in the morning, pink in the dusk.
Poetry's not window-cleaning
It breaks the glass
I see that she runs a publishing house for poets - I've signed up to their emailed newsletter.