Some say that snow is sleep. I say
That snow is but the rest
Of clouds upon earth’s surface laid
To soothe the forest’s breast,
To calm the souls that linger there
Beneath an age of leaf
That hides within its brindle flesh
Whole galaxies of seed.
Some say that snow is chill. I say
That snow is but a shawl
Draped over stones of silence,
That such silence shelter all,
And in their silence hear within
The brook beneath the glass,
That when the sun shall set it free
All dreams to sea shall pass.
Some say that snow is death. I say
That snow is but a prayer
Said when the soul in winter’s glade
Calls the body from its lair,
To stand within the test of light,
Becoming less than air,
And leave behind what came before
In the shadows dawn prepares.