Snow Poem by Poisha Yungen

Where weeping willows brush the snow
Light-falling from the powdered sky
As Mother Hulda makes her bed -
Wisp-feathered love soft-falls from high

The swirling flakes borne loft in eddies
Brush against a cold-stung cheek
So gentle are the sharp caresses
Piercing for a touch so meek

How frigid is the soft-sweet touch
That laces twixt the lashes lowered
Causing shocks and short-lived tingles
Numbing pain that is a pleasure

Moistened corners gather droplets,
Rivulets that shun the glare
And bursts that punctuate the plane
Which dazzle off one’s troubled cares