Slowly, softly the crystals form
Each on a small nucleus, a particle
Built onto until the naked eye
Sees the multifaceted form
Taking a shape.
Then it grows too heavy
Like a pregnant woman
Disgorging the product
Of her womb.
A perfect flake
Begins the slow descent
Leaving behind a void,
Quickly filled by others.
And the bird on the limb
Ruffles its feathers
It's going to be
A long cold night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem