snow
It was snowing. It was always snowing at Christmas. December, in my memory, is white as Lapland, though there were no reindeers. But there were cats.
“A Child’s Christmas in Wales,” in The Collected Stories (New York: New Directions, 1986), 296.
It snowed on Christmas night. We walked to Times Square to see the white billboard proclaiming WAR IS OVER! If you want it. Happy Christmas from John and Yoko.
Just Kids (New York: Ecco, 2010), 130.
A sparrow in a snowstorm with a feather in his bill: that is Faith.
“Flying Scrolls,” in The Skylark: and Other Poems (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1959), 74.
My garden is all covered up by snow; picked gilliflower Tuesday, now gilliflowers are asleep. The hills take off their purple frocks, and dress in long white nightgowns.
The Letters of Emily Dickinson vol 2, ed. by Thomas H. Johnson (Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1958), 228.