Dark winds circulate leaves in winding ribbons
around us. We stand, necks strained watching
the trees sway. Against some terrific force
they creak and groan, the sky bearing
down the crisp prospect of snow.
Sometime in the night I will wake to open a window
The smell of falling snow suspended –
I want to trick the first snow flake, to see
its descent, as clouds of it’s origin drift
low in the sky, biding their time.
Eyelids flutter as snow falls in the night.
And somewhere between a dream and waking,
snow queen lies down her thick chorus of quiet.
Blending all her subjects into a single horizon of white.