Every year I write about snow
and every year it surprises me.
If no snowflake is the same,
then certainly no blizzard is either.
How scary when hail pelts the windshield,
How charming snow is nestled on the bird feeder.
There are storms that catch you unaware.
In your nightgown you watch
flakes bigger than fists fly at the windows.
Know it will all melt, the ice,
the piles at the end of the driveway.
Even now it is moving toward liquid.
Know you will stand at the window again
watching green pulses push from the garden.