The Immigrant's Love of Snow

Because it came at night with no intent or purpose,
Like unsolicited dreams of loving women,
Snow was more powerful and precious than rain,
More powerful and precious than pain.

It lay like a beautiful language awakened
Translating his foreignness into beauty,
Refining odd dreams into duty.

Always he moved quickly to believe possibilities,
Kissing the stranger who held him so bravely,
Was it the beauty of snow or the coldness alone he craved?

[Poem by Virginia McKinnon Mann, dated November, 1994.]