Crossed in love, dusting the few
flawed flowers in a window box,
an imponderable falling of snow
begins in the town square.
It is gently scheming,
it is skating
and all coming downwards.
The snowflakes are fluent
in the sound of
touching the earth.
The low sky is brushed white
though somehow puzzled-seeming,
charged with smaller particles
than I it comes to diffuse
our feelings that need
a weightless snowfall–
it is beginning to
cover the bells of a church.
These snowflakes dandle the air
and descend, filling a street for
snowmen then purely repeating–
a white woven into a town square
with no one there.
It is difficult to explain
where it ends.
We watch the unmodulated
falling snow
quiver the air / it is rote white.
21 January 2015
Berlin, Germany.
