-To watch powder cling to sill and muntin through the frosted panes,
but not be chilled by that crisp whiteness

-To slacken on the back of spastic release – lulled by discordant heartbeats,
while feeling that they — and all — are in perfect accord

-To drift into slumber with no urgency and to awaken noncommittally,
sinking ever deeper into mattress and mind

-To love the snow for its beauty
as much as for its lack of reach