Hoping For Snow

What I want most of all

Is for the crystallized tree tops

To clumsily drop mounds of snow

On our flushed noses and ears.

For the white sky to release

Miniature angels as a liaison

Between Heaven and Earth.

Each a labyrinth of unparalleled form,

Glistening softly and delicately

With each twist and turn of design

While sugaring sleepy eyelashes

And finding sudden solace

On outstretched popsicle tongues.

To stroll glove in glove past glaciated

Water and hidden pathways.

To be lost in an isolated, eerily quiet

Yet altogether familiar enormity

Of eternal wintertime warmth

That only we could feel.