The Perfection Poem by Smoky Hoss

Big as half dollars, they fall straight down.
Tenderly laying as if simply taking a momentary rest
upon fresh blades of grass -
Snow should not be falling here in late April,
but it does it with such gentility,
it's as if nature is caressing creation -
The peace is palatable.
Each snowflake melts leisurely into the earth,
giving it's life to all.
The trees budding, look on with a wonder undomesticated, yet beaming with peace;
not a concerned gaze,
rather a mystic musing,
an understanding of genuine beauty,
with a depth seldom realized -
This scene,
the slow decent of a frozen art
landing and laying upon the perfection
of earth's long green tongues
stretched upward receptively,
creates a moment of extreme exaltation
suspended in perfect repose,
before becoming moving, living liquid.
Each fallen flake shall rise again,
in a gorgeous green resurrection -
The clouds open,
the sun shines in rapturous radiance,
the sky sings,
the world gleams in light pouring forth,
as all creation reaches upward,
where eternity mingles with time
in every simple snowflake formed.
And somehow, the world is greatly warmed
by the graceful perfection of
slowly falling snow.