So?

Icing sugar is leaking from the sky,

Sifting through the trees and my snowshoes.

I step through the top deck, then

Crunch into the meringue underneath;

Harder snow dropped days ago, 

Sorted, folded in by winds.

The only sound is my breathing and the fast

Racket of the granules hitting my shoulders -

Like tiny impatient angels tapping their fingers on a desk, demanding-

"So? You! Live, damn it!"