December

Snow on snow,
And on snow, and snow;
Each small fleck of white
Laces the earth
With an air of importance.
It’s like magic;
The smallest bits of perfection
Flutter down on the lightest wings
And gather together,
Cling together so comfortably,
And become so large as one
That the earth is layered
With its thick beauty.
Trees bury their leaves beneath it
Like we bury ours six feet under the dirt.
Then the trees stand, naked,
Towering over us
Like skeletons laced with ice.
And still, the snow clings together,
Like the best of friends.

If only we could be like that;
If only humans could band together
To bury the dead
And mourn their loss.
If only we
Could cry for the innocent
Who died at war.
If only we could quit being angry,
If only for a season,
To be best friends.
But I guess that shows the difference
Between humans, and something as lifeless as snow;
Even snow has better sense
Than we do.
(That’s really saying something.)