"Cynthia in the Snow," by Gwendolyn Brooks

[Reader’s Note: In the first line, “SUSHES” is a newly coined word.]

It SUSHES.
It hushes
The loudness in the road.
It flitter-twitters
And laughs away from me.
It laughs a lovely whiteness
And whitely whirs away,
To be
Some otherwhere,
Still white as milk or shirts.
So beautiful it hurts.

+ Gwendolyn Brooks