in fresh fallen snow the only sound we notice is its removal
the painter chooses thoughtfully the colors and textures to apply
there’s a muted glow that makes the city distant yet somehow closer
the city quiets and everything slows down as the snow piles up
the fear of drifting is in giving up control we don’t really have
you’re not wasting time if you are doing something that your soul requires
a coating of snow treats everything equally giving it beauty
we’ve been programmed for instant gratification the planet has not
doing what it does time will easily cover what someone forgets
nothing says winter quite like the stoic reaching of snow-laden boughs
uptown jack 