Snow, like frosted cornflakes fell slowly to the ground.
Look! Snow! It hasn’t snowed here since 1932
an ancient farmhand said,
as a flake fell into his open palm
and quickly disappeared into his nut-brown skin.
Toothless he laughed
and in dimmed eyes forgotten youth danced.

Ah, transience my love,
beauty never lasts,
but leaves me something I ought to remember.

Sun came and in an instant
the idyllic winter scene vanished,
evergreen bushes shook themselves
as did weed along whitewashed walls.
Yes, I have to send mother a Christmas card,
not of snow but of the landscape where December flowers bloom
and every drop of dew, on the outer field,
briefly carry the nucleus of a holy rainbow.

Ah, transience my love,
beauty that lasts forever I take for granted
and it leaves me nothing to remember.