I confess
That although
You say you hate it
I love the snow

I find magic
In its new, clean white
And the way the wind
Makes it seem alive

Alive as spirits
Dancing across the road
Or taking flight
From a roof

Snow transforms
The world
With the poignance
Of a black and white film

Shoveling does not bother me
Small price to pay
For such beauty

-- Tom Rubenoff