Snow Is Falling

Snow is falling: snow is falling. Geranium flowers reach for the blizzard’s small white stars past the window’s edge. Snow is falling, all is lost, the whole world’s streaming past: the flight of steps on the back stairs, the corner where roads cross. Snow is falling: snow is falling, not snowflakes stealing down, Sky parachutes to earth instead, in his worn dressing gown. As if he’s playing hide-and-seek, across the upper landings, a mad thing, slowly sneaks, Sky creeps down from the attic. It’s all because life won’t wait, before you know, it’s Christmas here. And look, in a minute, suddenly it’s New Year. Snow is falling, deeper – deeper. Maybe, with that same stride in that same tempo, with that same languor, Time’s going by? Year after year, perhaps, passing, as snow’s falling, like words in a poem? Snow’s falling: snow’s falling. Snow is falling, all is lost – the whitened passers-by, leaves’ startled showing, the corners where roads cross.