"I am not one who was born in the custody of wisdom. I am one who is fond of olden times and intense in quest of the sacred knowing of the ancients." Gustave Courbet

29 December 2025

Off.


Have you ever thought
      That snow grows old?
      It falls
      Young, dancing, light,
      Fresh, innocent, white,
      Peering in windows,
      Perched on the sills,
      Off again, flown again,
      Driven of wind at its will...
      Blown here and there...
      Frivolous, fair.

It falls
      More and more
      Serious, old,
      More and more...
      Hard and cold...
      Flakes fall and stay,
      Weep and dance not,
      Pile higher and higher,
      Howl and shriek in the gale...

A shaft of sun — a smile...
      A cloud of rain — tears...
      Softer, weak,
      Unresisting, gray,
      Kinder now, but very old,
      Flows stiffly down the hill
      And off to sea.

Have you ever thought
      That snow grows old?

Jeanne Goodstein

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