How can I not believe?
Her graces are magnificent,
transformational
skewing our rational world
bringing us all to a stop.
The world turns soft
(sharp as a knife in a freezer)
and brilliantly white
(muted in drifts of grey wool)
and it's times like this
when the crow and the goose laugh at us
that it's too easy to imagine
rabbit tracks on the freeway
and the world-serpent
(Oruborus)
has swallowed
the bright warmth of Summer
and the world will never be the same.
Or is it just me?
Notes: Written on a morning when my commute to work was halted by snow.