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Snow Fall, by Sharmagne Leland-St. John
Newborn Snow
by MFrostDelaney
The way the snow puffs on the branches, shrubs,
leaves cotton cushions, bidding atmosphere
to rest. These cushions camouflage the hands
of tiny flakes, the fingers crystal-bound,
a silent audience to breaking sun
whose rise commands applause, if only haze
would clear. I wonder if it is this day’s
enlightened stillness to embrace – be one –
with moisture captured, frozen and then downed,
or greater force that sheds the droplet strands
in genomes of the god of ice so here
reflects his beauty, births his infant cubs,
then lays them in an earthly bassinette,
the haze a cotton baby-coverlet.
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