Snow

I’d like to know

what snow is for;

whose footsteps those are

leading out of the garden.

Bird trails and cat tracks

cross

without ever meeting,

On the lawn,

a snowman waits

for news from the sun.

Gather me up

into a ball;

hold me close;

whisper me

your secret.

I will not tell

why snow falls,

how cold will end;

and why each year

still finds us dreaming

of a new beginning.