Zhaleh Sarduy

The snow hushes through the trees
like children playing hide and seek
the moving stillness
a creeping blanket of whispers
kisses our cold cheeks
tucking us in for the night
and there we remain huddled
until daybreak
when the warm tendrils of the sun
reach out in discovery
awakening us from our quilted slumber
and with shrieks of anticipation
we stretch and groan with the joy
of being found again.