All snowflakes know is snow, snow, and snow.

"Bottom line...NO ACCUMULATING SNOW in Seattle, but white stuff over SW Washington and Oregon. We could get a few flurries like today . . . and here is the latest probcast probability of precipitation based on ensembles and statistics. Same story. Very low probability of precipitation in Seattle. Again, no accumulating snow" --Cliff Mass Weather Blog, Sunday, November 21, 2010.

Snow

Uri Shulevitz

The skies are gray.

The rooftops are gray.

The whole city is gray.

"It's snowing," said boy with dog.

"It's only a snowflake," said grandfather with beard.

Then

two snowflakes.

"It's snowing," said boy with dog.

"It's nothing,"

said man with hat.

Then

three snowflakes.

"It's snowing," said boy with dog.

"It'll melt," said woman with umbrella.

A few snowflakes float down and melt.

But as soon as one snowflake melts

another takes its place.

"No snow," said radio.

"No snow," said television.

But snowflakes don't listen to radio,

snowflakes don't watch television.

All snowflakes know

is snow, snow, and snow.

Snowflakes keep coming and coming and coming,

circling and swirling,

spinning and twirling,

dancing, playing,

there, and there,

floating, floating through the air,

falling, falling everywhere.

And rooftops grow lighter, and lighter.

"It's snowing," said boy with dog.

The rooftops are white.

The whole city is white.

"Snow," said the boy.