Tonight, I imagine soft, quiet snow swirling
near the stoop of my back door.
falling softly and caught by a wisp of air
that dances 'round my window
where Jack Frost has left his mark
in child-like fingerprints that slide and dance
around the edges of the pane.
In my mind I envision who might dare to brave this frigid place
they might enter through a veil of icy lace that now robes
the edges of this world I see.
Oh, for those quiet, cold moments where the world isn't,
and I am.