he was never
the first snow
of winter
a light dusting
of fat flakes
viewed with wonder
a celebration
in frozen beauty
bringing smiles
to anyone’s face

he is the third day
of a blizzard
draped in sullen gray
drifting banks
treacherous black ice
in poor visibility
on the finite edge
of a panic attack

he longed
oh so desperately
to be a spring morn
the light refracted
from drops of dew
a prismatic blossom
on burgeoning green
the chill faded
as warm winds blow
a gentle shower
forming on the horizon