by Anusha B., 14
Crunching sounds crack silence,
no foliage nearby.
A visible puff, hovering–disappearing
as I breathe the sharp air.
An odd warmth follows my movement,
a glowing aura,
with no sun.
Sweet smells drift in my senses,
no flowers to admire.
Looking up,
crystals swivel and whirl
seeking their favorite spots,
ending long journeys
from the graceful heavens.
Lowering, layering,
making blankets of spotless white.
A sparkle wavers through air,
slowly, carefully,
settling safely.
I gaze as it
shimmers, sparkles, shines,
then disappears, its remains
stinging me.
Livingston, New Jersey
Bridge Ink 