The weight of falling snow

Oh, quiet herald of upper air,
you fall like a thought
the earth’s been waiting centuries to receive.

The sky loosens its pale breath,
and the world listens.
Fields bow.
Rivers still their restless speech.

Snow, pale messenger—
you are not death,
but the pause before awakening,
the white sleep of seeds
dreaming beneath the dark.

You veil the scars of stone and road,
not to deceive,
but to remind us
that nothing is finished
while change still knows how to fall.

I watch you touch the branches
with a lover’s patience,
each flake
dissolving into surrender,
each moment vanishing
at the instant of its perfection.

Oh, gentle power,
you teach the heart what the storm cannot:
that even the coldest descent
may be an act of mercy,
and that silence, too, can be a form of fire.

Photo credits: Pinterest 

Kim hosts at dVerse where she invites us to write about snow. Come join us! ❄️

Posted for Poetics: New Year Snow @dVerse Poets Pub