I wonder if snow is quiet
like cat paws on roof peaks.
I have never listened to snow.
I imagine that in the silence
of night the artist paints
the grass white
and dresses all the trees
The morning paper,
an intruder slithering a defying
line across the yard
would rest just out of reach.
You would wear your robe and barefoot
gallantly numb your toes
to place the paper on the bed
then find the warm place still.
I listen to the rain tonight
like a good back rub to my dreams.
I wake and sleep to its peaceful cadence.
I like the sound of rain.
Still, someday I’d love to wake and find, that quiet like cat paws on roof peaks,
[This message has been edited by Martie (edited 11-05-1999).]