On the first day of winter, the earth awakens
to the cold touch of itself.
Snow knows no other recourse
except this falling, this sudden letting go
over the small gnomed bushes, all the emptying trees.
Snow puts beauty back
into the withered and malnourished,
into the death-wish of nature and the deliberate way
on nothing less than deference.
Waiting all its life, snow says, Let me cover you.
– Laura Lush