TRIANA REID Lull

TRIANA REID | LULL

I went up the mountain, on wheels, to look at the first snow.

Round in patches.

If there were more words then cold & wet & white surely, I would use them now.

Brittle, perhaps? Heart-quickening.

Soon enough the weather will be so full there will be no need for descriptors

and as always, the snow will blanket all there ever was.