New England Weather Report

Snow falls on a Sunday morn
in this New England town.

It falls silently, as in
the faltering steps of a newborn kitten.

It falls quietly.

It falls cold, as in
the last gasp of a dying Fall.

It falls bitter, as in
the first breath of oncoming Winter.

It falls white, as in
the forgiven sins of all of us.

It falls deep.

It piles dirty, as in
the unforgiven sins of all of us.

It melts away, as in
the renewal of a new Spring holding hope for us all.