Friday, November 18, 2005
Falling snow. 15-XI-05
Stopped, paused in your walk, listening for the sounds that can't be heard.
Incline your face upward in the silent darkness
to meet the snowflakes arriving
gently
Count them as they reach your face.
Look up, into the void, into the disappearing light
the swirling thousands upon thousands,
Without a breeze to help them find their way.
A touch
One on that cheek, then on the nose, the lip, the other cheek, the eyelash.
Count them as their creation ends.
They touch your waiting face.
Stopped, paused in your walk, listening for the sounds that can't be heard.
Incline your face upward in the silent darkness
to meet the snowflakes arriving
gently
Count them as they reach your face.
Look up, into the void, into the disappearing light
the swirling thousands upon thousands,
Without a breeze to help them find their way.
A touch
One on that cheek, then on the nose, the lip, the other cheek, the eyelash.
Count them as their creation ends.
They touch your waiting face.
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