snow falling on the river

swirling on banks and trees

on fences and rocks 

on ribbons and garlands on the porch 

each tiny crystal settling to earth and home

with a sigh 

the wind finds its voice 

a shimmering powder cloud is whispered up and then resettles over the shoulders of the earth

over field and hill

over railing and porch 

shifting and molding lines with white fingers, 

rounding edges, smoothing surfaces,

a soft accord of mind and body, 

of houses and barns and baseball fields

in a grand unison of winter 

there is magic here

glinting with wonder 

pooling in mystery

desiring to be desired