It happens this way
in Vermont,
when snow feathers
light as ashes from God's fire
drifting over us all,
reminding us of love
that dances from heaven,
soundless joy
given as a gift
on the dirtiest gray days
in March.
Beauty mixed with air
and water frozen with dust
into the absolutely perfect faces
of children smiling
at tiny miracles landing
as angel kisses
on risen rosy cheeks.
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