Monday, November 16, 2020

First Snow

For those who have heard the poem and seen the photos, here is the text of the poem: "First Snow" for your reading enjoyment. Be sure to read it aloud. You can follow along on with the video on YouTube.

First Snow

It seems lately that one day it is gorgeous
with lots of sun, and the next day,
clouds, cold, and flurries that drown out
summer and picnics and laziness outside.
While we mumble about this new fascination
of the onset of winter among other things,
the first snow cleanses the air, forces
the unsavory particles from the sky to the ground,
creating a sense of newness of white
and clarity in the air and in our minds,
especially if we take a brisk walk in the early morning
after the white stuff finds its way onto the lawns,
still green, the water ways, ducks’ backs, roses, and trees.

The shimmering of the mountains as the sun floats
over them, seeing the snow for the first time,
brightens everything, making us a bit giddy,
allowing us to bask in both the brisk and beauty
of the glimmering of snow and the coldness
of the water in the streams and ponds, caked on the sides
with snow-covered greenery and ice dangling
on fallen branches, brown and gold leaves, and logs.
High in the sky, the Canadian geese are out
marauding around, honking at each other
and every wing snapping in perfect cadence
to wherever they are going.

I just stand on the pond’s edge, listening
to the gurgling and the greenheads milling around
with a cadre of other duck breeds.
Although my fingers are a bit chilly,
I am warm with my vest beneath my coat
and stocking cap on my head,
my feet snug in warm socks and new boots.

I snap a few pictures, holding the camera
just so to capture the glistening
and the quietness of the snow-laden branches,
reminiscing of times past in Idaho
with my brothers and sisters, snowball fights,
snow forts, and inner tubes pulled by tractors
and then lounging afterwards by the fireplace hearth,
a hot cup of chocolate in hand, laced
with tiny marshmallows simmering
and dissolving into the chocolate,
creating a pause in my thoughts
of the future and yesterday simultaneously.

Darrel L. Hammon
November 14, 2020

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