the sound of snow
is a kitten landing on a feather pillow,
a single thin piece of paper
floating from side to side
then settling on the ground in one graceful slide,
it is a wind through a spider’s web,
long silk hair tussled by a breeze
snow is not silent it is discrete,
hiding in the open
a three year old’s sleeping breath,
a tear of joy escaping down a red round cheek
the sound of snow is
the moment between sleep and consciousness,
fuzzy and both empty of thought
and full of promise all at once,
snow is the sound dreams would make
if we heard them while awake,
snow is the sound an angel makes
as it guides a soul to rest.
the sound of snow
it’s all of these together
or separately
or combined
and sometimes
none of them at all.
tp sage
