Day 925: Blizzard

Snow forecast again. I love snow but I'm thinking now maybe I love the descriptions of it more.  Metaphorical and magical, they bring language to the utmost point of description, aesthetic awe the result.

Blizzard - Linda Pastan

the snow
has forgotten
how to stop
it falls
stuttering
at the glass
of a silk windsock
of snow
blowing
under the porch light
tangling trees
which bend
like old women
snarled
in their own
knitting
snow drifts
up to the step
over the doorsill
a pointillist’s blur
the wedding
of form and motion
shaping itself
to the wish of
any object it touches
chairs become
laps of snow
the moon could be
breaking apart
and falling
over the eaves
over the roof
a white bear
shaking its paw
at the window
splitting the hive
of winter
snow stinging
the air
I pull a comforter
of snow
up to my chin
and tumble
to sleep
as the whole
alphabet
of silence
falls out of the
sky