Wrapped in the noise of falling snow 
We move in twoness through the morning 
Making a track in the new walk 
And feeling the newness of the clean air. 
Making our own sounds 
To break the quiet and 
Make a harmony with it. 

Wrapped in the silence of falling snow 
We watch it pile up around us, like time.

 
©1972 William H. Southwell
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