snow

Magic Of Snow At Christmas

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The beautiful reflection……,
Of the moon and the stars…..,
On the snow covered fields….,
Is a wonder all its own…..,
The falling silky flakes…..,
Of white create……,
An unexplainable vision…..,
That brings joy to the viewer….,
God has blessed us……,
With the Magic Of Christmas Snow…! ! !

 

– Trade Martin

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Windy Storm

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The wind was blowing,
Snow pelts coming down,
I was walking on a pathway,
Not a soul was a round.
When out of the corner of my eye,
I did see..
A little chickadee,
Jumping from branch to branch,
To keep up with me.
Dare I stop to hear,
If a message he cared to share?
Dare I look,
I may scare him and he’ll,
Fly away and disappear?
Into the wind, that blew so steadily,
The snow that dropped like pelts,
Stinging my face and ears..
No! I’ll keep his companionship quietly,
His way a compassing form,
He showed me to safety and shelter,
Out of the windy storm.

 

– Annalee Hopkins Somerville

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The Snow Storm

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Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o’er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
Hides hill and woods, the river, and the heaven,
And veils the farmhouse at the garden’s end.
The sled and traveller stopped, the courier’s feet
Delated, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
Come see the north wind’s masonry.
Out of an unseen quarry evermore
Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
Curves his white bastions with projected roof
Round every windward stake, or tree, or door.
Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work
So fanciful, so savage, nought cares he
For number or proportion. Mockingly,
On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths;
A swan-like form invests the hiddden thorn;
Fills up the famer’s lane from wall to wall,
Maugre the farmer’s sighs; and at the gate
A tapering turret overtops the work.
And when his hours are numbered, and the world
Is all his own, retiring, as he were not,
Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art
To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone,
Built in an age, the mad wind’s night-work,
The frolic architecture of the snow.

 

– Ralph Waldo Emerson

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A Patch Of Old Snow

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There’s a patch of old snow in a corner
That I should have guessed
Was a blow-away paper the rain
Had brought to rest.

It is speckled with grime as if
Small print overspread it,
The news of a day I’ve forgotten —
If I ever read it.

 

– Robert Frost

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The World In Winter

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Today the world…
Landscaped in pen and ink by
hidden hands
Is winter and embossed in white
on white,
The sky cries down its tears
upon the earth.

Black angled trees…
An onyx labyrinth twists down
the wind
Until the ground is rippled
white brocade
bemeath a shifting candleflame
of sun.

And we ourselves…
Embracing on the creek, like
figurines
Skate out across a polished
mirror of ice
Its edges rough and ridged
like hobnailed glass.

 

– Sandra Fowler

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Winter Sunrise

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As the sun wakes up the night
Over the chill fields of white,
Through the solemn, naked tree,
Bereft of its summer green.
Mauve tinged heavens give it sheen.

Lo, a small and brilliant fire
Rising, rising ever higher,
With a promise warming me:

Thou, the goal of my desire,
A new day has come with thee.

 

– Walter Conrad

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Winter

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Crunch of ice, muddied by passing cars
Cats step careful, marking a passage
With four corner paw.
Sparrows scratch a line grown long
Black speckled seed spread by a blue
Vein hand. Trees, naked and cold,
sheared closed.
After moms twitter to button up, please.

Soft white sleep, echoed by the black
Blanket deep, a path wore down
To the bare bottom ground.
By a screeching wind, with red mitten
Children building forts in the snow.

 

– Charlotte Ballard

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Winter

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I stand in speckled light
The shade is uncompromising this time of year
I hear children laughing and playing
Their voices become cheerful echoes in the
outer perimeter of my mind

The eye in my mind displays the approaching cold
and I zip my jacket
Rub my hands
I am like a lizard entombed by cold
A sloth who is moving ever slowly
Into hard fortunes
An English Plane tree dropping a cloak of leaves
onto lichen laced statues as frozen as I

 

– Scott McDonald

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Winter, Winter

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Winter, winter,
Where are you my dear?
I am here with my pussy cat,
My pussy cat is fat and not near.

Thanks for the clouds and the mist
They are telling the life’s gist.
I myself mislay somewhere
And misjudging you with twist.

I am going with my own swift,
Winter, winter,
I am a turner of light,
Give me strength to fight,
Fight against dark
With full might.

 

– Gajanan Mishra

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Winter

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Icy snowflakes fall to the ground
Softly, silently not a sound.

Snowmen stand grand and tall
Covered in white face and all.

Inside the fire burns bright
Lie next to me, stay all night.

Icicles are melting and the snowmen
See you next year, we’ll be together again.

– Jane Tomlin

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