Only You (A Poem About Snow)

You are a mystery,
that every twenty-first or twenty-second of December,
you may appear, but choose not to do so.
You are a beauty,
that every season only dreams of at their focal point,
but breaks from the cocoon before they're ready.
You are so cold,
but every day when you appear in blankets and blizzards,
you warm my heart with your frigid calligraphy.

But only you, only you.

You mean well,
but you anger a busy-body who hisses at your abilities
of creating the most scenic of lovely displays.
You mean well,
but you sadden a weary soul who feels the same as you
and wonders how their cold heart could thaw in your grasp.
You mean well,
but you injure people with your touch, and although it's not intended,
people have died in your soft arms as if falling into a polar vortex.

But only you, only you.

You are beautiful.
You are a magic that feels like only I can behold, that with song,
I make you appear and stay with me for a while.
You transform.
You are a masterpiece, a snippet of song, a work of art; a creation
that I can be inspired by and construct, and change, and change again.
You are someone.
You become a person, birthed by nature, given parts of tree and twig
and rock and garden, wondering if you realize it rains your flesh...

But only you, only you.

Only you know.
Only you know, sweet snow.

-LJ
22 December 2016