rime or reason

the gentlest curve of snowfall
looks to my eye like a curve of bone
salvaged from the woods
at the site of coyote kill.
way off in the corn field
the ladies line dance
to the tippy frigid cold
keeping balance precariously.
or is that me,
balancing sanity and foolishness
in this gray?
they seem to come closer
but my camera is playing the trick
and the lack of light 
and the snowfall
turn it into another kind of grain
the next day
still gray
but less airborne snow
and more earthbound snow
and corn ladies deeply bound.
i can get a little more personal
say a howdy
and shiver.
(my neck shivering despite the silk)
the weirdest snowfall left
icing in the bitter cold.
a rain freezing
left another kind of trace
a powdery gray
on the grandmother maple.
umber gray on blue gray
gray and gray and then this afternoon
the sun shone
dancing on the weird snow carvings.
bringing out some colors 
through my window.
next week is winter break.
i'm grateful.