Author’s note: I know, I write a lot about snow! I don’t know what it is about seeing the snowflakes blow in the winter air that just makes me get all poetic. It just seems so natural, something that nature has done forever, and I’m kind of in awe of it. Same re: rain!
Snow gathers in the crack, felled by the swaying branch,
moving in the wind.
Cold stone that collects only the remnants
of what the sky will offer.
My eyes follow the January gale,
full of flakes and sorrow,
for lost time and lost souls.
Time,
dim and low as the cold sun.
Imperceptive in the grayness,
shadows move in the trees.
They linger a moment,
from our world, but perhaps, from another.
the sagacious bee 