Snow Is Falling

Snow is falling: snow is falling.

Geranium flowers reach

for the blizzard’s small white stars

past the window’s edge.

Snow is falling, all is lost,

the whole world’s streaming past:

the flight of steps on the back stairs,

the corner where roads cross.

Snow is falling: snow is falling,

not snowflakes stealing down,

Sky parachutes to earth instead,

in his worn dressing gown.

As if he’s playing hide-and-seek,

across the upper landings,

a mad thing, slowly sneaks,

Sky creeps down from the attic.

It’s all because life won’t wait,

before you know, it’s Christmas here.

And look, in a minute,

suddenly it’s New Year.

Snow is falling, deeper – deeper.

Maybe, with that same stride

in that same tempo,

with that same languor,

Time’s going by?

Year after year, perhaps,

passing, as snow’s falling,

like words in a poem?

Snow’s falling: snow’s falling.

Snow is falling, all is lost –

the whitened passers-by,

leaves’ startled showing,

the corners where roads cross.