Crash Landing Snowflakes

The fresh snow leaves tracks
all over my front step,
until my only reply can be with my feet,
even if all footprints start to look alike
after being walked on over and over again,
especially when it's minus fifteen
and I forgot to wear gloves,
leaving me no choice but to listen
to the sound of crash landing snowflakes,
soft as caring enough to tiptoe
at midnight.