Raymond A. Foss Poems

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As the storm grew, the flakes fell,
the wind rose, the chill set it
changing snow, always changing
first light, soft, like confectionary sugar,
sifted through an ancient flour sifter
then instant potato flakes, large, angular in the falling
finally granular sugar, sand, tossed about
or maybe as fine as wood smoke, rising, falling, swirling
buffeting wind, temperature plugging
arctic wind, from the cold north
bearing down, careening, whistling
snow at its mercy, blown about
at the will of the wind

January 1, 2009

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