Some years passed
since that first
February flurry;
yet, I still find
novelty in every
fall of snowflake.
They float into place
onto roof tops
and naked branches
and into our hair:
little and white
and nonchalant.
Like children praying
in God's mathematics,
I stick my tongue out.
Eyes closed, I trust
in the intangible
niceness of every taste
rediscovered.
Copyright 2010 by T.J. Blackburn
since that first
February flurry;
yet, I still find
novelty in every
fall of snowflake.
They float into place
onto roof tops
and naked branches
and into our hair:
little and white
and nonchalant.
Like children praying
in God's mathematics,
I stick my tongue out.
Eyes closed, I trust
in the intangible
niceness of every taste
rediscovered.
Copyright 2010 by T.J. Blackburn
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