Without guile or prejudice,
Snow casts rarified grace.
It fills the land with crisp equity,
Assured monument to the Earth's greatest craft,
The tipped axis whose bias brings us appointed seasons.
Crystal, by breeze-sculpted crystal, fasten atoms poised
To hoard a promise for us,
Our very existence.
Each orb, spritz of the universe's most fertile molecule,
Hugs its drop until the Earth's bias turns once again
So the crocus and hyacinth wake to its flow.
If you take the snow to you,
If you survey its bright prospects,
Stride into its treasuries of potential,
Run hands through its sharp intensity,
Taste its porcelain presence,
You can glory in the working of the world.
March 19, 2018