In Cairo and Palestine
snow is as holy as manna
gathered quickly in the morning
to shape snowmen
or drink in that cold desert–
the same whiteness
covers so many scars in the cities
of my continent
cracked pavement
broken glass
gone in one frozen breath
but not gone, really;
merely covered over.
No sick are healed.
No lame are walking.
No blind can see.
There are no fast fixes
or true miracles
to celebrate
except the everyday
magic of ice and dust
each its own thing
unmatched
but collectively an event
Susan Daniels Poetry 
Wow. Brilliant and touching!
We’re covered in it too. Just covered.
How are you these days, Susan?
Hi Trent! Busy. Covered in show and work and holiday stuff. Thanks for stopping by. I miss you–going to have to pop over and see what you have been writing.
Anytime. Trying to get some more stuff out there.
No….
the blind walk
the sick see
and the lame are heals…
and this magic of ice and dust
is that all we’ve ever had?
Love it.
Now my toes are cold. Great stuff.
Thank you!
I do miss snow until it gets all slushy and then makes ruts when it freezes. But when it is first falling it is like I would look outside until it stops. When it stops makes me sad. I have lived in upstate NY and Fairbanks, AK.
Where upstate? I am near Buffalo.
I like this lots… there’s no magic dusting of whatever. If we want it to happen, we have to make it so.
I’d forgotten the uncoverings of the spring thaw. Very nice.
Oh Susan!
Snow as manna and magic. How cool is that?