WAKING UP TO SNOW                                                                       

 

Woke up to snow today and was

glad I had to be up and out,

to be about before the silence broke.

I like the idea of white all round,

emerging as the night draws back,

revealing random perambulations, say,

of a fox that senses scents are dulled

beneath the snowy overlay.

 

My turn to tread and feel the ease

of printing paths across the land –

more clearly than a walk on sand,

earth, grass or stone; now I could

send a snow-code note to all those

watching from above. Who might they be?

I guess that with snow signs you must believe

and so say something others see.

 

First light snow alone, a brand new

canvas for the ice-smith, starting fresh;

man’s home for a moment washed, pure

and cleansed. Lay those words end to end

and you’ll get some idea of the simple

goodness in any layer of white –

come my night, turn me inside out and

cover me, bathed in bright moonlight.

 

A score more cures, I’m bound to say,

array themselves in my tidied mind,

alongside new opportunities – though

subdued in winter’s grey; a shaft of light required to

set on fire the snowflake chandelier,

to give the clearest view of works of art

that wait patiently, yet are anxious to be

freed from the shadows in our hearts.

 

My choice today of such treasures:

joy unmeasured, all those photographs

I’ve long meant my fasting soul to feast on,

of five, bright, young lights – now grown and

flown, in the sense that hugs all round

give way to softer caresses of thankful thoughts;

a touch of sorts and we are more than grateful for it –

and for the snow’s good work, of course.