every flake falls so easily
so many and each one an individual
everything it covers becomes beautiful
it’s impossible to describe these crystals
no more than fear, elegance, truth
bare as you can see
not white — blank
purity is cold — snow is warm
you can live in a house of snow
dim filtered sunlight caught, webbed
rainbow in each flake, hold out
your hand, catch them, stick out
your tongue, taste them, frozen sunbeams
roll them into snow men that burn
with a million stars through the night
Pun-aphors
A pigeon flew at me and made me duck.
I was excited by the bow and arrow, but I no longer get that quiver.
I wanted to write an alphabet in a boat, but I floundered at sea.
I got a dog and wanted us to have pet Latin names — he was going to be Canus, but my friend said “You can’t be Sirius.”



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