lightly stepping
through snow on
your unshovelled sidewalk
his wild white hair
swept back
glows like the snow
when he takes off his wide brimmed hat
in your entrance
brushes off little icicles
on his Einstein moustache
and then takes off his heavy coat
you pour cream in his coffee
and he looks at you with
serious eyes
piercing the formality of the moment
speaks of the whiteness of the world outside
the many shades of white
that never get named
the white in the shadows is what interests him
the cloudy day whiteness
and the white beneath the branches
moonlight white
and sunrise white
and as he gives these a voice
you see anew the
wild
swept back world of
winter wonder
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