I recognize that light,

that strange, illuminating, leaden glow

the sky takes on.

It makes my heart swell

with a deep, soul-bursting happiness

- it’s going to snow.

The first shy flakes drift hesitantly down,

caress the ground and melt apologetically,

uncertain of their welcome;

but confidence increases,

numbers multiply.

Fat flakes fall thickly,

giving those in front no time to dissipate

before being smothered by their fellows.

And I’m a child again,

nose pressed to window

as the magic stuff smoothes edges,

turns my darkness into light

with its redeeming touch.

I think of past awakenings to a special glow

that sneaked around the curtain edge

to tell how in the night

the secret snow had come.

I recognize that light -

it’s snowlight,

and whenever it comes

it feels like Christmas.