Standing
on a quiet night in a snowstorm
Sounds
like a quiet whisper all around you
Specks
of pale reflected light from each snowflake
Softness
the hard cruel world has become soft
Beauty
the ugliness of the city has become beautiful
Clean
the dirty junk piles have become clean

You feel as if you could
float across the landscape

Light, soft fingers brush your face
and beckon you forward

Your feet are cold
but your heart is warm
and there's a warm loving hand in yours

Both hands are in
the baggage compartment
of your coat pocket

You start to walk
but you don't turn around
because you don't want to see
how you raped the virgin snow