Snowfall in Georgia

Snow comes soft and light,
like sifted sugar spilling from unseen hands,
settling on branches and stubborn leaves,
a peaceful canvas covering their brittle brown.

The children tumble out,
wide-eyed with wonder,
small boots breaking
the fragile lattice of white.
The last snow was only a memory—
watched through panes,
too distant to hold,
but today—today is theirs.

Birds alight far above the chill blanket,
or are tucked beneath eaves and hollows,
while the turkeys in their roost
grumble uneasily,
their voices low and wavering
against the stillness below.

Atlanta pauses.
Highways emptied,
businesses locked,
a city paused
in an unfamiliar stillness.

In this rare hush,
Georgia listens—
to the crackle of branches bowing,
to children’s laughter rising,
to snow falling gently,
a rare moment in time
but likely gone before the new day arrives.