Where are the silences of snow?
Squelching in the remnants
Duck paddling in the meadow,
Now morning cacophony of birdsong.
Already distant are the early
Squeaking of so-cold snow
The sun a struggling idea
Behind cocooned mountains
Sometimes the dogs would leap
And disappear
In powdery white highs
Charged with the changing landscape.
Coffee steaming in both hands
Layers and a hat, guarding their joy
One crow, I hear the feathers rustling
His individual wingbeats.
Brrrr! Beautiful, but I’m going back to spring now. “The sun a struggling idea” : I like that line.
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Thank you!
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Do you miss the snow? It’s a lovely image you paint with your words, and camera, but I have to admit, I’ve had enough snow to hold me for awhile. Love that you added the crow too!
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I’m conflicted. I miss the crispy part of winter but I’m going to love summer!
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Same here.
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Good writing ✍🏾
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Thank you!
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Welcome
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I have photos like that of snow piled on tables and chairs. And I remember the squeek of walking on snow in the cold, and the Whooping of the ice when I read your poem.
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I’m glad it brought back memories!
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