isn’t it beautiful? how the snow
occasionally slows not a collective stop,
but each individual flake floating in the air,
freely wandering, calm.
a real of stillness. and isn’t it beautiful?
how even when the gust of wind comes to disturb the innocent drifters,
beyond it lies an unchanging white blanket
plastered behind every scene, an endless pale sky
a swaying tree branch, heavy under the millions of
infinitesimal white settlers. listen.
and isn’t it beautiful? how when the wind fades,
and stillness returns, how everything stops once again
and the sound of each individual speck landing on the piles of matching white beneath
it reverberates through the air.
and how its landing shakes the earth and how yet the loud landings
don’t rattle the serenity of the scene. watch. listen.
isn’t it beautiful?