Falling Snow (New Life)

comments 28

Snow is
carefully disguised
dropped by spring
a few moons
in advance of Her campaign,
a dusting of crystalline
apples and bergamots,
acorns and pomegranates,
perfect white kernels
of new life.

Snow is a fresh coat of
time-delayed beauty
sprinkled onto the land
that muffles every footstep
and rounds off every corner,
dissolving every edge
into a pure continuum,
while augmenting the
of unimpressed woodpeckers.
Pay attention
they say.

whack whack whack

If you listen,
you will realize
that death falls down like snow,
so gentle and careful,
settling into lines along
every twig and angle
of our lives,
into every wrinkle
of our weathered faces,
smoothing every nook
of our topography
into something unbroken
and inviting
in every direction,
as one by one
our every boundary
and projection
is simply covered over,
collected into a fresh
tableau of meaning.

If you don’t fight it,
you will realize death
is really the resurrection
moving in
one particle at a time,
faint as a whisper,
so you have a chance
to get comfortable with the idea
that every trace of history
will one day melt
and soften into spring colors,
to reconcile your every desire
with the rising drifts
crowding all around you
that freely proclaim:
will be remade

once again.


    • Great comment, Eric. Cracked me up. I could just picture your clear-headed, inspirational mode of reasoning grinding away for a short burst. Then… because you’re open to new perspectives in a commendable way, (as a helpful and generous heartfelt practice I suspect), you give a shrug of the shoulders… Okay… I can deal…! I’ve certainly seen crazier!



    • You read medical journals, too? WTF, Hariod?

      Although it’s not perhaps classically apoptotic, the best ever discussion I had on cellular biology was with a friend from college who went on to study immunology. He explained to me how our immune cells, once they realize they have a virus in them, will basically try to keep it in there as long as absolutely possible, like a soldier who jumps on a grenade, swallows it whole, then clenches every muscle in his body to postpone the inevitable. Meanwhile, the grenade-bearing immune cell takes one of its countless free hands and holds the viral DNA outside of its own cell wall, like a flag, so uninfected immune cells passing by, while mourning the bravery of their fallen comrade, can make his loss mean something by jotting down the puzzle they’ve got to solve and running it up the immunological flagpole. Amazing what is happening within us every instant…



    • 🙂

      I realize in hindsight I should have kept my mouth shut, as we’re now apparently in the line of fire of a storm equipped with hurricane force winds and snowfall that could be measured in feet. Never doubt the power of words, Debra!


      Liked by 1 person

    • I imagine it’s an exotic thought indeed from whatever patch of the South Pacific this finds you at today!

      I do love living in a place that features prominently all four seasons. For some reason this prompted the remembrance of a Bucky Fuller observation I read once that innovation tended to be the offspring of civilizations in northern climates, and that led to the comparison of life near the equator, which is more timeless perhaps, to life near the poles, and of how in the far north so much time is spend in darkness, and how in darkness, so many ideas take life…

      This is what one comment can do… Thank you. 🙂



  1. i do about once a year miss the possibility of this blanketing in the tangible outdoor environment – and you transported me to that moment of first opening the door after a nighttime covering – the transformation entirely of the landscape, the static silence, the grace – then off I go into the implications beyond the physical level into the death and renewal realms…suddenly, this morning, all seems so clear and fresh, wet and purposeful. Isn’t it something that words can create not only worlds but also supreme grace? (I will help you market snow as a wrinkle cream if you want – I sense great potential here:)


    • Once a year is probably a respectable amount of heart tugging, Marga. Too much more of that, and it might really happen. Too little, and you’ll undoubtedly receive a conflated reminder. I think you have struck an efficient balance…

      The way words pry open feelings and worlds that lead to an encounter with grace is indeed amazing… Maybe instead of snow, which strikes me as having a high start-up cost, we could start a line of cosmetic poesy… Even if it doesn’t actually work cosmetically, at least you feel better momentarily.



      • Michael , I love you …did you know that in China a fox represents the afterlife …( I just now discovered this since your comment made me ponder the fox in both your memory and mine ) …xxx


        • Meg, I love you also… You ambushed me with that one… Then I saw it– like beholding a sunset, carrying birdseed out to the feeders in a blizzard, or whispering to a tree in the woods– how that’s all we’re ever really trying to say… even in our moments of anxiety or torment… I love you… Thank you…

          I did not know a fox represented the afterlife… That’s interesting though. Fox sneak around pretty well, stay hidden, but they have those bushy tails that fly through dreams. They’re like prayer flags running around, furry streamers. I posted this right after being struck by the image in the piece on your own site. A bit of an impromptu homage…


          Liked by 1 person

  2. I love every line, every stanza of this poem, Michael. It is beautiful and works as well for reincarnation as it does for resurrection. And great timing as we prepare for a blizzard, at least in the Northeastern US!! Was it synchronicity? Or did your Muse listen to the weather report?


    • Thank you, Ellen. I’m in the swath of territory predicted to be impacted by Juno tomorrow as well. We had a couple inches this weekend, and I was sitting on the front porch watching the flakes fall to the ground as I wrote that one. You bring up an interesting point about resurrection and reincarnation. In writing this I was thinking about our resurrection from illusion into knowledge, and the idea that death can occur at any time while we live, so long as we heed to the insights falling all around us. But also, that our physical death is not truly an end, and so in that sense it definitely works for reincarnation, too. I guess I got some concepts all mashed up in my middle… and this came out! Ha! 🙂



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