Raining down the unspoken words remained
Just sighs.
Subtle and fragile she went unheard until
The blind man felt the words.
Almost imperceptible the steady murmurings drifted
Into gentle drifts.
A monochrome tableau of mute sculpture,
Her words were like white paper doilies laid out
On a white damask cloth.
Eyes would have to be sharpened and attuned to
Hear the story of the snow.