The hush of snowfall,
No matter how many times
You see it,
Notice the stillness,
Witness the exact amount of snow
On every single twig, branch,
Limb –
You can never avoid the Awe.
The cold, sober air,
God’s exhalation is a breath;
Your lungs long for
That sparkling inhale –
Once again
You’re eight-years old.
