White Midnight

the air is cold, but not bitterly so
as I walk through the snow late at night.
my feet defile its virgin surface
(crunch, crunch, crunch)
and the still night air is punctured, too.

the field of snow stretches out into
the quiet darkness of the night;
it glows crystalline in the pale wash
of light from the lamp-post,
glittering in silent brilliance.

my breath rises in whorls as it exits my mouth,
dissipating into the nighttime chill as if
it never existed.
I look up to try to find it, and instead find the moon
and the flickering diamonds of stars.
I look back to my feet and find
trillions of tiny stars winking back at me from the ground.

a whisper across my cheek tells me
that new flurries have begun to fall.
I smile up at the night sky,
snowflakes adorning my hair and clothes and face
like tiny cold jewels.