Snow Is Alive

Snow is alive.
Snow is a swirling and falling living thing
That remains alive
If the air is cold enough
Even after falling
From such height.

Rain is alive
But only as it falls.
When it reaches the ground
It dies in its puddles
Or in seeping into the earth.
It seems more tragic and ferocious
Than the snow when it falls
And after,
When it lives or dies on the concrete
And the grass and the dirt.

I live somewhere now
Where it never snows
But it used to rain all the time
And soon it will again.
Drizzles and thunderstorms,
Deluges and hurricanes.
I live somewhere now
Where everything that falls from the sky
Dies when it reaches the ground
But I remember when I lived where,
For a short time,
Life fell from the sky
And then I walked inside it.

John Tustin’s poetry has appeared in many disparate literary journals since 2009. His first poetry collection from Cajun Mutt Press is now available at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C6W2YZDP .fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry contains links to his published poetry online.