***
Slow it was.
Its Excellency –
The snow!
The snow was waltzing
Into the sea,
It was.
Unable to hide its passion.
Was it Madame Karenina?
Yes, Anna!
Was navigating through the waves of tulle!
Was spinning in Vronsky’s arms!
Was, like the first snow does,
Carelessly melting
herself,
But snow harms no one.
Through the closed skies
Came the staccato
Of the wind,
Feathers of silent snowflakes
Smashed
Into the polished parquet
Of the sand.
Intoxicated by the elegance
Of low-cut white gowns
Of the seagulls,
The chandeliers in the lighthouse
Were trembling
In unison with fingers
Inside my mittens.
