white

It snows in a foreign language,
with hexagonal crystalline words.
There is no spring;
just a delicate yet undecided winter.
And I wear the snow flakes on my eyebrows and lips

And when I breathe air vibrates like the strings of a cello

And I imagine a white plane landing in a slow motion causing a huge wave of snow and disappearing in a thick translucent fog somewhere in the delta quadrant

Photo: http://thundafunda.com/393/images/widescreen-wallpapers/nature-pictures-2/nautre-pictures-ice-cream-bright-white-snow.jpg