The Sound of Snow

It is winter; The snow Is filtering From the clouds. Serene, Tranquil, And Gentle snow: You are a sonata Upon my ears. You are a melody Perfected Through stillness: You resemble An aged Cello With a bow, Played Like the wood Of a tree Ripened with Sweet Deliberation. Your sound Of perfection, Peace And Silence Is like a Lake: Cooled with Welded Ice. For the ice Covers the water Resting, For another season: Just like The grass, You so delicately Cover: Resembling That of a blanket – One that Loves, Like that of A horse-drawn Carriage Within the dead Of a cold Winter’s Night. The coach Is gliding Along a trail; A trail Of perfect ground: It is of a million Particles Of the earth – So natural, So steadfast. Yet the dirt Of this trail, Is no longer upon Your loving Bedspread: For It is a Dream: Recycled By the wheels Of your carriage Like the snow Ever falling From the dark Night Sky. For the cabin Suspended ever so Gently Upon its wheels, Carries A soul, A thought, Just Wondering: How serene, And beautiful Is tonight, Listening to the sound, Of your sleep, The Oh so Beautiful: The gentle, The trickling: The sound of snow.