Sunday, March 8, 2015

The soft falling snow is a thrill,
A feathery godsend of peace and goodwill.
And yet at its worst snow can kill.
Can cover until life is taken away in an ache and a dream and a chill.
But snow revelations are wondrous, serene
In their declaration of what stands between
our beginning and end in the things we have seen
And have looked at for longer than
Thinking about it would take the brain machine.
And spirit awakes, takes what the days show
And transports me to where no one can go
But we do with our minds that can overcome slow.
My last regrets may be I never could capture the sparkle of snow.

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