snow falls
like a whisper
barely there
it brushes the ground
then settles
never to be seen again

sometimes it pummels
like ivory bullets
piercing the ground below
it rains down
in frozen sheets
then
conceals the ground
as if it were ashamed of
the life that once
thrived there

sometimes it leaves
powdery blankets of cold
upon the barren shrubs
then
melts away once again

it is gentle
like a mother's touch
and also cruel
like a father's rage

snow will fall
until spring
months later
then
it will patiently wait
to make its return
the next year