Night
Night like purple flakes of snow Falls with ease Catching on the roofs of houses In the tops of trees Down upon the distant grass And the distant flower It will drift into this room In an hour....
Donald Jeffrey Hayes
Night like purple flakes of snow Falls with ease Catching on the roofs of houses In the tops of trees Down upon the distant grass And the distant flower It will drift into this room In an hour....
Donald Jeffrey Hayes imagines night not as sudden darkness but as a soft, almost visible substance—purple flakes of snow that settle gently over the world. The speaker watches evening fall over rooftops, trees, grass, and flowers, and knows it will eventually drift indoors too.
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