The night endures its first assault: a flake
of snow in flight from sky to street. The chill
of its descent is iridescent white,
like ice. Six stabs of light, six points of snow,
dispel the dark by which the night is known.
The filigree of flake floats down, and up
to meet it looms the street. As lace of snow
unravels on cement, the glow of dark
comes back. But heaven sends a second flake
of frozen light. There’ll be no warmth this night.