‘Snow Fall’ a poem by Martin Willitts Jr
Like flour shifting through a sieve, snow fell gently.
The boy stuck his tongue out, tasting snow newness.
A slight twinge-chill touched his tongue.
Catching some downy flakes with red wool mittens,
he planned to make snowballs or angels or forts
or lopsided snowmen sniffing the air with carrot noses.
But the snow was loose and unmanageable,
another disappointment in his life.
There never seemed to be sound during that snow,
although cars were gliding past
like figure skater...