Kolasch.com

Snow is the clouds exploding.
The fury of heaven, condensed
and frozen until it cracks—
splinters and envelopes the world.
Children come to play
god, making men and women,
crude forms rising from the white
and motionless.
Children can’t breathe life.
So they fall,
spreading imagined wings
and fly in place, to smear
the ground as angels.

This is the truth behind it:
exploding clouds and snow.
I’ve always heard
that it’s water vapor freezing
around the floating dead—
flakes of skin and dander,
shattered boulders shattered again
until the pebbles
turn to sand.
It’s angels exiting heaven—
brilliant comets that stain the night
sky white. Eraser smears
landing in fields
where they stand, pale wings
vanishing against the stars.

JKolasch