This is one of the poems from my collection currently under creation, entitled Snow Dreams. Each poem is one of the dreams and it is inspired by my childhood winters. I should probably point out that this is a collection of free-verse poems and that they are probably the closest that I have come to a merging between verse and prose, each line of the poem almost resembling a stream-of-consciousness paragraph of word-painting rather than having a particular meter or formal structure.
eastern edges brush against backdrops of startled waves, tops coated with a mist of flakes disintegrating into the moisture the touch but of which they are formed, a rumbling seen but silent in its presence, shaking the foundations of rocks who seem not to mind, notice, keeping calm but being carried on wind as jagged fragments soon to become beach pebbles, carried away by enterprising fingers to be painted with words of love and names of beloved
a vision of impossibility streams across a land of cliffs and beaches devoid of sand, seemingly indomitable yet consumed by an unending blanket of weightless luminosity, that which humans dreamed of conquering without effect dwarfed by an overwhelming sense of calm in the face of a storm, the sheer downward force of those droplets with their hidden water silencing all but the wind that carries them to join the ocean
lifeless feathers hang in an air saturated with anticipation, architects of towering mountains, white valleys in shadow from color-matched peaks reaching up to caress tree branches, envelop them in ice, save them from wind’s spirals, a pattern emerges without design, intricate in its crystalline structures, a history in shape of the pathways of wind, the weight of flakes, standing on each other’s shoulders, becoming one in the same, a mountain of water, absent one moment, a blink and it begins, another, taller still
moonrise steals focus from falling stars inches away, the storm fading as suddenly as it began, leaving no sign in the air of its presence but stillness, blankets of calm over realities of a day’s now inconsequential worries, fears, silence descended on bleak rocks, robing them in robes of white, delicate, new mountains sleep as eyes open to their sudden presence, reflections of lunar mirrors flash back through the steam of cocoa