Snow Falling

It is an unhurried and steady storm, long lasting,
a massive, bulky storm, the best of the season.
I watch it through my window as I write to you.

You can imagine the tree limbs I am seeing,
heavy with snow, bending down. You can imagine
the snowflakes I am seeing, gently descending
with a floating type of fall. No animal stirs.
I take in breaths and I let out breaths, and
the snow on the ground is slowly growing taller
(taller or deeper, maybe I should say.)

The word “storm” doesn’t fit. There are no sudden
lightening bolts- no thunder rumbles my bones,
the world is full of softness, and I am unafraid.