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.
I lay on my back Listening to the intricate drumming Of the rain against the metal roof Split in half by My right side filled
Inside the tiny lunch room, with its tiny chairs and low ceilings next to the copier behind closed-doors In the corners of the hallways It
