White, and fall onto my flying hair
Onto my chest. I catch these
White flowers, as they fall, with
Frozen and frostbitten fingertips
And my tongue.
They taste fresh, like peppermint.
It snows here. This is a moment I have been waiting for forever. The flakes are quite big, but then again, I haven't really seen my share of snow-- yet, let it suffice to say that I am happy. These flakes hit my shoulders and head with a plop and wet my hair, my shirt, my camera too-- and it is beautiful.
The snow finally gathered after an hour. I laugh like I have triumphed the world. I laugh like I am crazy.
It falls onto the leaves. I remember when I crumpled styrofoam peanuts in my fingers and let them fall to the floor wishfully, made snow angels on the marble floor. But this is real. These are not styrofoam pieces. This is the sky being reborn.
My rooftop is covered. So are all the others, and it looks as if it is a painting.
The barren trees and these shades of white-- they swim before my eyes and blind me.
the day it snowed