Greetings from an Icy Accident

 

It’s snowed.

The clouds look pregnant with cold,

just waiting for that perfection,

that moment of particle collision

that will finally allow it to

expel its heavy load.

 

The orange street-lamp glow

makes them look feverish.

Everything on Earth glistens

with ice and frost; sweat

of the pregnant clouds

covering the ground below.

 

And I shall wake in the morning

to see the pure white and clean

sky-children lying side by side

on the ground, holding mirrors

in their hands and reflecting

a chilly happiness into my room.

 

The sparkling snow is saying hello.