The following piece is approximately a year old and one that was an exercise in a writer's workshop I used to attend on a weekly basis. The signal phrase was "fast snow" and these words were a required presence in the piece. Inspiration stemmed from the weather, a splendid poem by Lisa Olstein and from one of the dark crevices of my mind.
The earth, this intertwining of
oxygenated verdure, saline seas
and chaotic limbs
is warming by imperceptible degrees,
and yet this sonorous blast of destruction,
as white venal flakes of frozen rain
descend at an exponential speed,
this fast snow scarring pearlescent
shoulders, bruising ashen, protruding
bellies, producing irrefutable marks,
wounds billowing with bulbous pus
no suture could seal,
and yet she strides through
this barrage of blinding color,
untouched, virginal, saintly.