It fell in large,
fluffy clusters
and small, shiny dots
at a rate that was steady
steady and metered.
Light and flaky
it settled
spread--
spread across the land
the grass, the concrete, the asphalt
as if it's life's purpose was only this
no questions, no conflict
just there, just here, present.
I searched at my window
for a moment, a second of conflict
there was none
one steady, metered snow
falling, falling, falling.
Sonia Chintha is an Indian American writer who lives in the Washington DC area. She blogs, writes poetry, and fiction. She is also an English teacher who believes that our experiences teach us more than any test. She is the founder and co-editor of Good Little Girls.
Fire limned with resentment, eating up the air until I choke— this is my anger, gaslit, bewildered. No longer able to tell who should be
There once was a Shah, who brought religions together to live in peace. Upon red sandstone he marked with liberal symbols unified were they. Tolerant
