ODE TO THE FIRST SNOW OF THE SEASON IN NEW YORK.
There is no fanfare to announce
your arrival. Silently, you descend
on the city. From clouds rolling
and dense, you appear. Slowly,
at first, a lace curtain drops down,
rippling in the wind and the fresh
smell of joy overcomes the atmosphere.
Hearts open to a child’s excitement.
White flakes fall onto cold cement
and make quilts out of cobblestones
streets. Suddenly, all things are possible.