The Remaining Snow

I have seen enough snow
To know that some leaves
And some remains.

On warm mornings it falls like rain
From eaves and shrubs that shrug it away
To glisten and flow to tinkling drains.

On frozen days it stands its ground,
Glowing blue as a resplendent cowl,
Chilling its bearer, yet thrilling her, too.

But other times, the snow melts soft
And hardens clear when darkness falls
Casting leaf and lamp alike

In glassy prisons, where we await
The moment when the light will break
This fearsome paralytic mood.

Conjuring in our captive minds
Alternate climes where cold is kind,
We cannot glimpse the coming glow,

But glow it will and free it must;
The selfsame craft that gave us ice
Did also make the loosing flame.

And still, in May, I'll find in shade
A shadow of the snow that made
The world its slave for hours and days
And wonder where else the snow remains.