Snow
I have always loved snow.
My favourate kind is the angel feathers.
A whirlwind of white thick flakes
That stick to the sides of posts and trees.
The way it swallows sounds except whispers.
It transforms all things.
The shadows change colour.
You can not tell sky from ground or ground from sky.
Dancing one way, then another.
Like a whole world is dreaming.
All things familiar are strange.
All things strange familiar.
It vanishes with the hot touch.
Burns cold into hands and feet and noses.
It smells like left over thunder
Bitten tongue
And cold.
No matter my rage or pain it transform me too.
Smoothed away ugliness.
Cools the temper
Leaving something pure
Like snow.
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