Lessons – A Poem by Sunil Sharma

Snow has got a style of delivery. The
H₂O, frozen form creates crystals that
glitter as pieces
of a scattered sun or moon, on cold days
and nights, when gusty winds come down
hurtling in a rage; scream, shake you badly,
ears pierced
by a low
howling (you recover fast). The ice, solid-state,
formidable.

Grows
into tiered mounds of fine art. Covers the hills
meadows and rivers, in a shimmering
white mantle. Life is miserable, cooped up
inside. Sad. melancholic. A stuck-up record.

One day, it reconverts into liquids—only to evaporate in
few quick hours under a warm, bright sky of deep azure,
leaving
no trace of a brutal reign.

Visit Sunil at https://sunilsharmawriter.com.