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Poem

My ears hear the music of chiffon. 
A white satin curtain of snow 
billowing in the breeze. 
The avalanche is vertical, 
snow falling from the tip 
of the tree to the ground. 
An airborne assault 
starting with a whispered kiss 
then falling flakes brushing light 
the lips of outstretched pine, 
sharing a brief touch 
until the moment grows too heavy, 
the bough says adieu, and lets go. 
The snow alights to the stillness 
of another weighted branch. 
Held in tender arms 
for what seems eternity, 
then yields to kisses and lets go. 
Each fall more fluid, leaving 
sparkling gossamer trailings 
drifting slowly to the ground. 
A gift of pixie dust left for dreaming eyes 
by secret sandmen passing by. Swooosh! 
My eyes see the sound. 
Snowflakes falling, gently pushing air aside 
in their hurried rush to meet the earth. 
With succeeding kisses they gain 
in number and weight 
until none can resist their temptation.  
All who meet them join their procession 
a long and floating farewell. 
Their passing paints a white waterfall 
of crystal from sky to ground 
that makes a magic sound. Swooosh!  
Neighboring trees become envious, 
offering swoooshes of their own. 
In this rare distilled moment: 
after the snow, before the rain, 
when snow shows me the way of its song. 
Swooosh! My heart will remember the sound 
through the winter of all my tomorrows.

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