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Spring snow

Peculiar kinds of snow today.
No wind.  Dead calm.
Four degrees below freezing.
I was out for a little walk.
It began with tiny white pellets,
not much bigger than mustard seeds.
They behaved kind of like those little white beads of Styrofoam
that stick to you when you when you take your new TV out of the box,
only the opposite in physics.
They bounced off the dark green of my nylon coat, showering back upwards.
Then, a few minutes’ pause, as I made perfect black footprints
in the whitened sidewalks.
Next, I felt the tingling on my nose, chin, and eyelashes as I looked up
at the flaky white dust descending.
Flakes so fine that gravity had little effect upon them.
They tumbled, dancing across and seeming to hang motionless before settling.
At last came the heavy artillery.
Communities of the sparkling travelers were binding together
to form wide, saucer-like flakes, spinning in a gradual descent
looking, for all the world, like those helicopter maple seeds
that would soon come to the neighborhood,
spiraling down to clog our pristine eaves troughs
with the sediment of spring.



Lee Dunn View All

Lee Dunn has been writing since the age of 18, but found that work got in the way for the ensuing 48 years. In his home town of Toronto, Ontario, Canada, he reveled in his independence at an early age, and spent as much time as he could exploring the city’s Arts scene. He was introduced to poetry and prose by the works of two literary giants, namely J.R.R. Tolkien and J.W. Lennon and thence fell in love with the written word. His work includes poetry, short fiction, and personal essays, and ranges in theme from the surreal to the horrific, nostalgic, and themes on the human condition. He has been published on, The Dark Poets Club, Journal of Undiscovered Poets, Crepe & Penn Literary magazine, and the Shelburne Free Press.

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