The wind carves it luscious: snow,
good enough to eat;
swirls with curving edges,
scallops and peaks, dips and dollops,
drifting higher here,
down to a skiff there.
Lavender shadows accent milkiness ---
no, milk is too creamy,
even vanilla ice cream is out:
snow is whiter,
whiter than milk, a white only snow can be,
and maybe clouds --- but clouds lack
substance, this dense purity.
