The Sound of Snow

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.