April Snow

They float down,

Those Individual wisps.

Periods which end

No sentence.

Quotations,

Bereft of content.

I press my ear

Do the dormant grass

To hear the sound

Of their touchdown.

“Shhhh,” they said.

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Snow Print

Symmetrical surprise touched down,

down on the green glow of labor.

A screening on a Friday night.

Sun down, feet down into treads,

gaits shortening along the driveways,

and shorter breathes and longer thoughts

of a weekend on the way.

Sinus pressure with the low.

 

An innumerable silence fell around me,

on me, and in me.

Thoughts melted as soon as they lit.

Not even a still small voice was heard.

When I saw momentary beauty

awaken me I said, “No, no, no, I am not done receiving!”

Intricate design set my spirit afire.

I prayed for another perfect landing.

 

Looking up I saw a quadrillion white descendents

of epiphany curling down gently pulled by gravity

to rest under footsteps of mortality.

All I needed was one snow imprint on my spirit.