A winter
without snow
to transform
brutal asphalt
into a wondrous cradle
where humanity
could dream pure thoughts—
in Brooklyn
at least—
unbearable
so when
the first
delicate
crystalline
snow
drifted from the heavens
my spirit soared
high
far
dwelling amid the countless
manifestations
and this night
the air fell
to ten degrees
so no thick heavy snowfall
instead what I called
a Twinkling—
iridescent flakes
given a brief
optic life
for humans
by the brilliance of
mercury vapor
street lights.
because I find it so difficult to be 'flowery' - I enjoyed this poem. This poem makes a California sun bunny...wish she was there in that 'optic' revelation.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Brilliant, descrptive and making me wish it was snowing! Well done.