Across the snowy field
no footprints.
Streetlights brighter
further the sun sinks.
Cold begins to creep in
upon the winds back.
Ice pellets tiny and hard
against our shielded eyes.
In the midst of winter
I begin to understand.
The sky above
the great wind blows.
Truths of times passage
unaware of past, present, future.
Listen to the snow fall
building upon its previous self.
