How Snow Falls

It's happened: I feel that I know you well enough to foist a poem on you. Woe to you. That's what you get for reading the blog. (Really, I'll try not to do it too often.)

I still look forward to snow during the Christmas season. Four years ago a crisp winter storm blanketed Your Nation's Capital in fluffy goodness and--joyously pelted by the stuff--I snuck indoors briefly to write about it.

How Snow Falls

The snow has a crush on everyone,
Embracing all as it falls with unique appreciation.
It holds hands with each leaf of the evergreen tree
And hugs the whole wide-armed ground, equally.
The lamppost, upright and dutiful chap,
It tops with a proud watch cap.
Snow wraps up each of its beloved,
Road and home, with powdered love.
And me, head over heels with snow,
It kisses on the mouth, and cheeks, and nose
With its darting, sharp affection.

PS - I hope it snows again soon! I was just on a business trip to Portland, OR and it started snowing like mad. My cabbie was from Wisconsin and made his derision for his adoptive city's snow-savvy abundantly clear. Oh, and "Little Red Light" by Fountains of Wayne is guh-guh-great; now playing on iTunes.