Poem: Snow
Soft, pure, gentle,
All sound smothered.
Engulfed in loneliness and wonder.
White as absolution,
Bleak as disillusion,
Cold as friendship died,
Silent as tears never cried.
Quiet as the footfall of the thief
Light as a falling leaf.
There is something about snow,
Just when I think I know-
It melts.
L. Pickering
Snow at the Little Shore. Photo by Dan Tait
