I thirst for snow

It’s true

Not snow-capped peaks
covered with softly fallen slow
perfect powder for sliding
down slopes

Not the tiny shards of ice
shot out of machines
for kids to play in at the
city park, melted down into
a solid block by warm winter sun

your rain has soaked me
to the skin many times,
washed me clean
over and over again,
from Irvine to South LA
I’ve danced under your showers

You might call me
an ingrate, always scheming
for ways to leave your
inviting warmth, but I
cannot deny

I thirst for snow

The kind that falls when
the air chills your breath
before it can leave your body

The kind that comes down
at an angle, the icy pricks
reminding you that you are
alive no matter how cold
or desolate everything else might be

The kind that gives that
sweet misery of cold– sweet because
the cold can be brushed off, unlike
the clinging damp of rain; sweet because
it teaches us to cherish the warm

I cherish your cloudy mornings,
I cherish your bright afternoons,
I cherish your hot breezes,
I cherish your cool shores,
I cherish you for all that you are,

but oh, I cannot deny

I thirst for snow.