Snow that Reads

In the secret courtyard winter sows alphabets of snow,
tiny characters fall, cold and luminous,
and the city reads them aloud, with open mouths.
Every letter settles on the white of the walls,
streetlamps become pens writing in the silence,
and the stairs whisper verses that no one asked for.
The windows open in a long breath, a chorus,
the streets, like an outdoor library, listen,
while the wind transcribes the name of night.
When dawn arrives, winter sows again,
the city remains with a loud voice among the fingers,
and the secret courtyard stays full of words that breathe.