Let it snow, no matter the season,
in May even, or later.
It does not matter, for you brought me color
in in the coldest of seasons,
color that persists, perseveres,
stronger than the bitterest cold.
About this poem.
The woman I love has a birthday today. She has taught me that the kind of love I believed in was real. And though we have been together long enough that ours is no longer a new love, it still feels new.
The picture was taken late last week. Snow in May. Welcome to Vermont.