The First Snow
by Marguerite Alvis Venable
Across the petalled world I go,
Enclosed by fleeting wings of snow.
There is no sound; the softness here
Falls with the silence on the ear,
A dream of lightness, like the feel
Of fairies, only this is real.
A dream of movement without sound,
Flowers fleeting to the ground,
And softness softer than the tone
Of fairies calling fairies home.