The Sadness, like snow, lands softly, silently.
Slowly covering everything, at first,
in a quiet calm.
Stillness, and soundlessness.
It accumulates lightly, in layers,
embracing the earth like a blanket,
encasing everything, beneath its mounting weight.
Building and compounding.
Pressing and packing itself down.
Making itself into a mountain.
There is always a chance that
it could be here for a long time.
There is always a chance
that the sun will shine brightly,
the mercury will rise, the ground will give,
and the melting will begin, deep down.
The thaw will creep, and crawl
toward the paths of least resistance,
gaining momentum by grabbing on to gravity.
Wiggling its way out from under the weight,
racing to reunite with the gently rolling river,
or pausing, pooling and ponding at the lowest points.
Perhaps to freeze over again,
or else to be absorbed.