My 4 year old daughter woke up and looked outside and recited this poem. She blows me away seemingly everyday.
Snow is a mind
falling, a continuous breath
of climbs, loops, spirals,
dips into the earth
like white fireflies
wanting to land, finding
a wind between houses,
diving like moths
into their own light
so that one wonders
if snow is a wing’s
long memory across winter.
~Steve Crow, “Revival”
