Falling Falling: A Poem

Bethely Cameron

bustle and fluster of flurries
falling in bunches
on branches extended like fingers
to catch white ribbons
that lay along their lines

fluff highlighting form
among February’s faint pink buds
and delicate twigs

outlining small leaves
huddled close on their stalks:
small symmetries that stayed the winter’s
edge

falling together in clumps
to cover bush, bike, and sidewalk
falling before footsteps
(with a cushy crunching noise)
revealing the morning’s movements:
records of the small dog’s line of round and
scattered steps

and the snow, falling,
falls still

met by curling clouds
that rise from rooftops:
a net of smoke somehow seeming to
slow the steady stream

out of a foreign gray region
that the trees do not touch
comes endlessly falling
pieces together
fluttering to follow
twisting paths