There's just a dusting of the lightest snow
Reflecting sudden sunlight quietly,
As, when the lights have been turned very low,
A mirrored glass permits us still to see,
Catching the dimly flowing light to show
The outlines of what we know ought to be
Around us, trapping too inside that flow
A little of their personality,
So now the world, fringed with the snow, shines bright
Will all the edges tinseled up in white
Thrown into contrast, to the exclusion of
The hidden middles, seems to seize the light
Using what is provided from above
To show itself as best for us to love.
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