First snow,
a biting wind
The taste of sleet
on my lips and tongue
Sharp crystals,
quickly melting
Fresh and sweet
Like mountain streams
Blizzards at the summit
Face blasted
by the bitter grittiness
Of a northeasterly gale
And I think about the swallows
In their palaces
Sweeping through the softer airs
Of southerly summers.
#CoSopoetry