First snow. A hush Falls As the stars Cascade from night To white. A silent blanket Covering up all spaces And traces Of what was before. First snow. Cornstalks jutting up In frosted fields Painted with the palest brush. Silver showers rain down earthbound, Reflecting the moon Catching the earliest rays Of alabaster sunrise Brilliant prisms sparkling On the plains So stark, so pure. The quiet stillness touches me. Shaking something loose, Like a sudden wind gust blowing a drift Of ivory dust From a pine bow. Jogging something deep. How in the coldest times I learned to hold myself. How in the darkest moments Mercy appeared. How the power of my healing Was embracing the grace In my own body. How weakness Was transformed into a gift. How love was a baptism. The land and sky Melt into an infinite Indistinguishable horizon. We are above and below, We are the earth and The first snow. White light White noise Washed clean. A new season. A new day.
I’m honored to be a member of the Iowa Writers Collaborative. I invite you to support their pages.
A lovely way to start this Iowa Sunday morning! Thank you!
beautiful...