Snowfall

It’s 1am

And I’m wandering these old streets

   of lower Manhattan

The gentle snow is cascading down

Each flake is reflected

   in the yellow light of the lamppost

I walk on the snow covered

   cobble stone roads

I see the whiteness forever

   settling on the red brick buildings

   bordering these street labyrinths

It’s cold in the air

   I can see my breath

But all around

   I feel warm

The snow falls on my hair

   Covers my jacket

   And lays upon my soft lips

Everywhere I look

   Snow falls in patterns of joy

   In a hurry to fall and land

They land on window sills

   And on parked cars

   Even on dogs walking by

They land on my feet

   And on my ears

   Even on the space between my upper lip and nose

I see all this beautiful snow

It blankets the city down

And I smile

   How could I not think of you

   When I see such beauty in this world?

© 2000 David Greg Harth

00.02.04.04:47:43@296NYC