Saturday, January 20, 2018

the transformation of snow

A Snow Day

nightly slowly moves into day,
and only a fitful, light drizzle
accompanies dawn as the temperature
hovers a bit above freezing,

slowly, inexorably, a consensus forms
among what falls to the ground,
the white stuff stops melting on the way down,

grass and roof, anything raised a bit above Mother Earth,
start to whiten, then the whitening speeds up,
snow continues through the day,
softening the lines where bare branches wait for spring,

by late afternoon, near a foot of white has fallen,
the ground decorated with a deep cover
of soft, undulating uniformity,

for now, the world is transformed
with a blurring wash of white
that entices the eye and challenges the foot,

as long as the power holds
and the wood releases summer into our Great Room,
we are cozy, and we love the snow, at a distance,

we love transformation in our spirit,
and the comfortable in our skin.

by Henry H. Walker
January 17, ‘18

No comments: