quiet snowfall on a Tuesday afternoon

at the corner of the building
standing near the trees
snow fell in wide white flakes
over me and everything else
to the left the bench, black and stark
stood in contrast
empty and unwelcoming almost
almost because despite the emptiness
I felt the pull, insistent and relentless
to fill it – to fill the bench
while at the same time
be filled
it is the silence filling me
the hush of the snow
as it falls slowly slowly down
landing here and there
along the top of the bench
the branches of the trees
the rosebushes half hidden
already in the bank
and on my bare face
upturned towards the sky
the city sounds are muffled
cars in the street beyond the curb
crawling by, their low rumble
soft enough
to not disturb the moment
I could not let
my breath even
as I let go
into the

Leigh-Anne Tyson


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