Snow

by Daniel Thomas

Once in awhile, I see a white-
crested mountain and think of snow.
But distant snow is abstract and aloof.
It doesn’t frost your hair, smudge
your glasses, crunch beneath your feet
or slide you down a slick hill.
Sometimes, I think snow is the breath
of the Holy One, lavishing the world
with love—the driveway weighted down
with love, love causing chaos
on sidewalks and streets, walkers slipping
in its thick slush, tires spinning
in its slick slur, schools closed,
errands lost, before plows arrive
to tame footloose love, scrape
its velvet swaddle from the earth,
shove its heaped excess aside,
tear the blizzard's wild fur
from misty eyes, banish the snow-
blind to cold and distant mountains.

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Daniel Thomas’s second collection of poetry, Leaving the Base Camp at Dawn, was published in 2022. His first book, Deep Pockets, won a 2018 Catholic Press Award. He has published poems in many journals, including Southern Poetry Review, Nimrod, Poetry Ireland Review, The Bitter Oleander, Atlanta Review, and others. More info at danielthomaspoetry.com.