High in the field of frigid darkness

The place where potentials reside,

Atoms rise, congregate and coalesce.

I am born, a vaporous singularity.


Wandering there, I reach out to the closest being

A speck of dust carried in an atmospheric wave,

Clinging, descending.

The order within expresses symmetry, six arms.


Growing, gaining mass, I descend

Through neighborhoods of varying cold and wet,

More cold my body flattens.

Less cold my arms grow intricate, needle-like crystals.


Descending further and gaining momentum

My I reach out in seven directions,

Ever growing, expanding, tossed in the wind.

I am not alone.


Rising, falling, swirling with my neighbors

Uniqueness become clear,

As does substance as we journey together.

The wind stronger now, carrying us to the same destiny.


Approaching the earth, falling together in silence

Trees lift their white burdened arms to greet us,

An orange tabby on a windowsill watches, arches its back.

A doe leads her fawn to a leaf-fallen thicket.


Beauty and mystery filled the journey

As singularities became a multitude,

Arriving together in silent curtains of white.

Each of us witness to potentials realized in a spectacle of joining.

February 10, 2017

David L. Smith

One thought on “Snow

  1. Beautiful David! Is that a poem of yours? You are so gifted & I accept your gifts w/ smiling joy every month! 🎁🎈🎊👏💖

    Sent from my iPhone




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