Smelling The Snow (Poetry)

I slept with the smell of it on its way —
not yet fallen but the sky far
into its pregnancy
fired with the full weight of it
the wind like an absent father
denying all responsibility.

The midwife firs settled in for a long night
experience had taught them to
let nature take its course
their brittle needles spread ready
scented clean as any hospital
used to a blackout.

Air sharpened as the hours crawled
until the ice particles stung eyes and nostrils
and the first flake came slithering from nowhere
lone as a messenger bringing a false alarm —
no brother flakes followed
the silence stayed bursting — achingly dumb.

Then — just before dawn — the sky split open
drenched the world in newborn crystals
the trees stretched wide-armed to catch them
as they tumbled through — drawn to patient earth.
Fresh as antiseptic snow-tang greeted morning
and waking lungs drew in a long deep breath.