Snow falling

Snow is falling on

my skin, in an open

universe, and I feel

the taste on my tongue

in the silence of the

fall, in the clarity, in

the connection between

sky and ground, and I,

a being of time and place,

am placeless now–and

covered in snow, becoming

invisible under the weight

that is no weight at all.


And the snow is falling, falling

and the borders have changed;

the snow is falling and I am alone.