There’s music in the first snow
Like the foam of Seas, it’s ethereal
Letters of rock and water to Woman
To Man, a sub-music of the blue
Skies and clouds and seas
It’s the gulls of the cosmic rain
Variations on what winter means
The death of ease, the struggle for comfort
Unless in darkness, you find yourself?
We stepped over icicles of white
We felt it in our breath, sang our songs
It is cold to be forever young
And inside we are still so young
Sun-bleached are we not, we remember
The feel of winter on our laps
A humidity in the back of our throats
The jaded hope that this too will pass
It’s a faith of nature’s cycles that’s for sure
There’s music in the first snow
And release, release from so many things.
Wuji Seshat 